


The Pursuit of Happiness (and Harry, Somehow)

by Rice-Ball247 (Koibito247)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cheating, Complicated Relationships, Drarry, Explicit Language, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, M/M, Multichapter, OOC, Romance, snarry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 71,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2694818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koibito247/pseuds/Rice-Ball247
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, happiness comes around unexpectedly. Then again, so does love. Draco Malfoy pursues Hermione Granger, but somewhere along the way, he falls in love with Harry Potter. Now how did THIS happen! DMHP slash</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changes, Crushes and Conflicts

**Author's Note:**

> Sirius is dead, but HBP never happened, meaning Dumbledore is alive. Thank you, and if you have any other questions regarding the story, where it fits in the timeline etc etc, please leave a question in your review and I'll get back to you in the next update or in a message.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership over any of the characters that are recognizable in this story, that is, Harry Potter and any affiliated characters, which are copyrighted to J. . There is only the plot for me. And my imagination.

**Prologue: Changes, Crushes and Conflicts**

 

The sounds of parents and the like cooing over their children made a seventeen-year-old Harry Potter wish his parents were never dead. What, he wondered, would it be like to have James and Lily Potter wish him off before boarding Platform 9 and ¾ to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

Billowing white steam could be seen wafting from the very front of the Hogwarts Express, covering the air above them with thick, magical smog. Harry watched an ecstatic couple kiss their twins, a first year boy and girl, goodbye. To his right side, a single mother embraced her third year son, saying how proud she was to have him and for him to do well. To his left, a grandfather wiped tears from his eyes as he watched his seventh year granddaughter board the Hogwarts Express for the final time, wishing her luck for her final year of schooling.

Somewhere behind him, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were saying goodbye to the last two of their litter, so to speak. Ron and Ginny Weasley waved to their parents; the older of the two red-heads scowled as his mother made a repeat performance of his first year by wiping a patch of dirt on his nose. Harry suspected it was chocolate, not dirt.

The two friends greeted each other with a pat on the back and a promising grin – Harry was sure that Ron would spill all that needed to be said about his trip to Europe. Ginny gave Harry a brief hug and kissed him on the cheek. All three were happy to see each other again.

At the mention of Hermione, Ron turned a rather interesting shade of red; perhaps it was interesting because it rivaled his hair colour. It was almost equal in colour. Harry suspected that Ron must have fancied her, or something, but Ron insisted that 'when YOU see her, you'll know what I mean'. Apparently the Weasley's and the Granger's were fortunate enough to cross paths in their trip to Europe and had spent 'quality time together'.

"Goodbye Draco."

The coldness of the tone caused Harry's head to rise and turn to see if Lucius Malfoy was bulling his son again. The taller of the two men nodded down towards his son. Briefly, his eyes flickered over to meet Harry's, before turning back to Draco.

"Do me proud."

"Yes, Father," Malfoy inclined his head towards his father before turning and boarding the train. Lucius' eyes met Harry's once again. A small, albeit sinister smirk graced sinful lips before the man turned and vanished into the crowd.

"Shit, she's here," Ron gasped, almost breathlessly. Ginny let out a low whistle and giggled as a loud "Harry, Ron, Ginny!" brought all three's attention (well, technically, Ron and Ginny were already paying attention) to the stunning brunette who ran with a certain grace towards them.

Luckily for Hermione, Ron and Harry were already standing close to each other, so she merely flung her arms out and caught the both of them in an almost rib-crushing embrace. Harry returned the hug, glancing over at Ron over the top of Hermione's head with a raised brow. The taller boy's face was rather red, yet again, and reddened further when Hermione pulled away to kiss them on the cheeks and then ask Ron why on earth he was such a shade of colour.

Harry believed that the choice of words where 'have you got a fever or something? Your face is awfully red! Oh Ronald, you didn't listen to me when I told you about those mischievous, Rumplesnark Imps, did you?!'

Harry took the opportunity to check Hermione out while she babbled on to Ron about how fun a time she had with him. Indeed, the girl had changed. Over the years, she had gone from a bushy-haired, obnoxious know-it-all, to a young woman with an impressive knowledge and outlook of the world. It came as a bonus that she had filled out quite nicely too.

Her hair was still bushy, as always. It was what made Hermione who she was, it was a part of her, and Harry didn't want that to change. However, Harry did notice that it was slightly tamer than usual, held back with a red ribbon. Something as simple as jeans and a light jacket over a t-shirt made her look stunning. Her eyes, a light brown, were still shining with the youthfulness and knowledge she'd possessed since young, but the years lined them with a depth of wisdom.

Yes, Hermione was more beautiful than ever. And Harry would have turned into a mushy puddle of goo – had he been interested in girls in the first place.

"…much fun! Harry? Harry!"

The voice brought Harry out of his trance and into the world of the living. Hermione had a smaller bag on one hand, and the other entwined with Ginny's as they were stepping onto the Hogwarts Express. Ron was following after.

"You coming, or do you plan to stay there for the rest of the year?" Ron joked with a happy grin. Harry shrugged and followed them onto the train.

* * *

Finding an empty compartment was always a bother. Every year, the number of first years increased. And of course Harry had noticed that since his first year, the Hogwarts Express had almost doubled in length. Still, empty compartments were scarce. The thought of reserving a compartment flittered over his mind before he opened a door and found exactly what he had been looking for.

"Oh goodie," he sighed as Ginny uttered an exasperated 'finally!' and followed the trio in. Ron, being the perfect gentleman that he was, offered to stack up the luggage into the holders above them. After successfully dropping one on his foot, Hermione decided to intervene, for the sake of all their safety, and levitated the luggage onto the racks.

Just as they were conversing about any topics they may have to cover this year, the door to their compartment slid open and revealed the very bane of Harry's existence (aside from he-who-was-a-royal-pain-in-the-arse and Professor Slimy-Git).

No one moved to acknowledge Draco Malfoy's appearance in the doorway. Years of practice reminded them that incensing the boy to fight wasn't going to help – ignoring him made him bored and thus, he left them alone.

However, the almost predatory look in Malfoy's silver-gray eyes as they swept over Hermione's figure left a cold, unpleasant feeling in Harry's gut. And being the Gryffindor that he was, Harry went with his gut instinct.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked politely, but his tone was cold. At least, without snarling or scowling, he was being civil with no room for argument. Malfoy, as arrogant as ever, decided he would make room for it.

"Potter," he sneered unpleasantly. He was about to continue, when a sharp voice brought the flaxen-blond's attention to the source.

"Malfoy, don't you have somewhere else to be?" Hermione's tone was as icy as Harry's. Ron didn't trust himself to speak without adding fuel to an already fiery argument.

"For once, you're right, Granger," Malfoy smirked. Harry didn't like the smug expression on his face, nor did he enjoy the glint in his eyes. No one said anything for a full ten seconds before Ron snarled and heatedly told Malfoy  _exactly_  where he should be. "Gryffindor will lose the House Cup this year, I can promise you that."

Malfoy turned and walked out, seeming rather satisfied. Harry narrowed his eyes at the retreating figure, ignoring Ron's indignant spluttering and the shock-horror expression on Ginny's face. Hermione seemed to be the calmest out of the others, but her eyes clearly betrayed her worry.

"Didn't you see?" she whispered to them, her eyes meeting Harry's and he nodded, "He's wearing the Head Boy's badge!"

"What?" cries from the others caused Harry to wince at the sheer volume alone. Ginny looked absolutely horror stricken and Ron looked revolted. "Why is he wearing the Head Boy's badge? Is he doing it because he's dating the head boy?"

That last part came out as a sort of jibe towards Malfoy's sexuality. Hermione rolled her eyes at her best friend's stupidity and whacked him upside the head. "No you fool! Malfoy IS the head boy."

The door slid open again and Neville Longbottom appeared in the doorway. "Erm, Harry? You're wanted at the front of the train. Professor McGonagall wants to speak with you. She said it was urgent."

Harry shot the others in his compartment a look, to which he was returned with blank stares. He sighed and he rose and left he compartment, Neville taking his place.

Despite the train almost doubling in size, it took no more than two minutes or so to get to the front of the Hogwarts Express. Professor McGonagall was, indeed, waiting for him at the front of the express with a scowling Draco Malfoy at her side.

"Mr. Potter," she greeted him with a small smile. "It seems that every year you've attended Hogwarts, you seem to surprise us every time. Congratulations."

Harry blinked as something cool, with a smooth round surface and slightly sharp edges, was pressed into his hand. He stared at the gleaming badge and raised a brow.

"What's so surprising about being Head Boy?" Harry asked indignantly, and after seeing Professor McGonagall's expression, quickly added, "Considering that Malfoy is also Head Boy."

His professor sighed and shook her head. "Exactly that, Mr. Potter. The selection for the roles of prefects and Heads are done similarly to the selection for the TriWizard Tournament, only the names that come out are of the fifth, sixth and seventh years, respectfully. When it came to drawing the Head Boy and Girl, we ended up with two Head Boys, for some reason. I'm sure this will go down in Hogwarts: A History," the last part was mumbled more to herself.

Harry stared blankly from Professor McGonagall to his newly acquired badge, and then back to his professor yet again. His mouth opened and closed like a dumbfounded fish. And as eloquently as he could muster, a loud, "What?"

A snort brought Harry's attention to the eye-rolling male that occupied the compartment as well.

"What she means is, Potter, that both you and I are the Head Boys of Hogwarts. Understand?" Malfoy drawled, his face expressing an obvious displeasure. Harry resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at the blond, opting instead to thank his professor.

"Do you think I'm up for it?" Harry asked her curiously as he turned to leave the compartment. Professor McGonagall's eyes met his but her reply was not accompanied by any encouraging smiles.

"You were chosen, so the Goblet must think you're capable. Good day, Mr. Potter."

Harry quelled the uneasy feeling that came about as a result of Professor McGonagall deliberately ignoring his original question.


	2. Impertinent Brat and Stupid Ferret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (see prologue).

"No, Ron, YOU have Charms with me, not Harry. You have Transfiguration together," Hermione corrected as she brandished their time-tables in their faces. Ron looked despairingly down at his own slip of paper to see that Advanced Potions seemed to be a dominant portion of their schedule. Hermione, however, insisted that they were all evenly spread.

Harry moodily pushed around the peas and corn on the side of his plate and pointedly ignored the banter between the two. Honestly, they should just get bloody married! If they didn't start dating soon, Harry was sure his hair would fall out simply by their flirting alone. They'd been openly flirting throughout the Sorting and the feast, but he bet if he had asked either Ron or Hermione, they would have told him that they were having a healthy debate. Yeah right.

He found his eyes wandering over to the Slytherin table, where a smug looking Malfoy preened under the attention of having people gush about his achievement of being Head Boy. Harry had received similar treatment from his fellow Gryffindors, for his triumph had brought light to a once dark situation (that is, Malfoy being Head Boy). No one seemed to care, really, that there were two Head Boy's, except perhaps Hermione, who had been curious enough to visit the library on the first day back to do some research.

McGonagall was right. He and Malfoy were the first pair of Heads in the history of Hogwarts to be of the same gender. In Dumbledore's words, most curious indeed. As if feeling someone staring at the back of his head, Malfoy turned around in his seat and sent a sneer Harry's way. Harry would have responded, had Malfoy not quickly diverted his attention.

Harry followed Malfoy's line of sight to rest on Hermione yet again. His eyes narrowed. What on earth was Malfoy up to? Could it be he was planning revenge? Or…

Harry squinted, as if that would have made his vision sharper, but instead, he found something  _else_  in Malfoy's gaze that caused him to recoil, as if it had burned his very eyes. The darkening in Malfoy's eyes and the look of absolute pleasure on his face caused Harry's stomach to sink. He felt totally disgusted.

How DARE he set his eyes on Hermione! He didn't deserve her! Harry would have picked up a bread roll and lobbed it at Malfoy's head, but found himself interrupted when Professor McGonagall rose from her place at the Head Table and descended towards the students. Harry watched as she eventually approached him and told him to follow her. He shot Hermione and Ron a nervous glance, his heart thudding loudly in his throat thinking that he was in trouble, but upon seeing Professor Snape pull Malfoy from his own seat, he relaxed.

Slightly.

Professor Snape had never been good news, per se, but Harry felt that he had some goodness in him at least. No one could be  _that_  evil. Probably not even Voldemort. Harry shuddered at the thought of a smiling Voldemort doling out flowers to little boys.

A Michael Jackson equivalent, no doubt.

The two Head Boys followed their professors out of the Great Hall to a nearby classroom. Upon their entry, Professor McGonagall pulled out a parchment and two quills, while Professor Snape waved his wand and the door shut with a soft 'click'. Locked, obviously. The parchment in McGonagall's hand rustled gently as she spread it open on the teacher's desk and tapped her wand on the centre.

Almost instantly, blank ink flooded the paper, as if seeping into the parchment from some unknown source. Harry was reminded of his second year, with Tom Riddle's diary and the fiasco  _that_  caused.

"This is your contract," Professor McGonagall began, pushing her spectacles higher up on the bridge of her nose. It made her seem more intimidating than grandmotherly, despite being shorter than both boys at full height. "I expect you both to abide by the rules to the best of your ability-"

Professor Snape made a rather unprofessional snort at that comment and turned away from the three. He folded his arms across his chest and stared directly into Harry's eyes. Harry shivered as he spoke, "To the best of ability, no doubt, isn't very far, Minerva."

"Oh Severus, hush.  _Both_  Harry and Draco were chosen for this, so I trust that they will do their best,  _despite_  what has happened in years passed," she told him, turning to the newly elected Heads of Hogwarts while she spoke with a meaningful tone. In other words, 'behave yourselves, or you'll be sorry'.

Professor Snape quieted, but still looked unconvinced, if the skeptic tilt in his thin lips were any indication of it. Professor McGonagall continued, "The duties of the Head Boy are almost equivalent to that of a teacher. You have the power to award or deduct House points as you see fit, provided that they are within good reason. I don't want to see House points rapidly disappearing from either Gryffindor or Slytherin."

Harry nodded numbly while Malfoy rolled his eyes. Professor McGonagall narrowed his eyes at him, "As such, since you have such a burdensome duty thrust upon you, you'll gain certain privileges that I trust you not to abuse. The two of you will be sharing a dorm on the third floor corridor."

"Why the third floor?" Harry couldn't help but ask, since in his first year, the third floor corridor had been out of bounds due to  _certain_  not-so-well-kept secrets.

"Why  _share_?" Malfoy added, glaring more at Harry than at his professors. Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes.

"It depends on what houses the Head Boy and Girl, or in this case, Head Boys, are in. To make it fair, depending on the combination of the two houses, the rooms for the Heads are determined by what House they're in. For the two of you, it's the third floor, since you are in Gryffindor and on the seventh floor, and Mr. Malfoy is in Slytherin, in the dungeons," her nose scrunched slightly at the thought of it, but Harry quickly dismissed that thought. "So it would make it fair, the distance the two of you would have to travel, instead of going up and down continuously. As for why you're sharing, I would have thought it would be… _obvious_."

Professor Snape took on from here, "You will be treated like a Head Boy and Girl pair. You will share one dorm but will have separate rooms, as expected. I don't want to waste my breath on the details so read your contracts and sign your life away."

'Waste your breath…I'd be thankful if you didn't,' Harry thought nastily as Professor McGonagall shot Snape a reprimanding look.

"Anyway, read over your contracts carefully. If you decline, so be it – the consequences will not be affecting you and therefore, are none of your concern. Professor Snape and I will wait here. Take your time in reading and making your decision, but please, do not take all evening. Your duties will begin immediately and you will be expected to follow them to a T," McGonagall waved them over to the desk and gestured for them to sit down.

They pulled up seats while they moved and began to read their contracts the moment they sat down.

Harry only felt the slightest bit confused. His brow furrowed as he read over every detail, major and minor, some of which, required one to squint as the print had become excruciatingly tiny. Above him he heard Snape snort, most likely at the lost expression on his face. Beside him, he could hear the quill in Malfoy's hand tapping against the desk while he thought. Seconds later, there was a scratching sound, indicative of Malfoy signing the contract.

Go figure that Malfoy would be quick to sign the contract. For one, he probably couldn't care less if he were to share with a  _Gryffindor_ , even if said Gryffindor was Harry-bloody-won't-die-Potter, as long as he had Head Boy privileges. Knowing Malfoy, he'd probably use the time to torture Harry and bother him as much as possible. What were the good aspects of being a Head Boy anyway?

Private dorms meant having to share with Malfoy. But it still meant a private dorm. Plus, he had the power to reward and deduct points as he saw fit. He was practically a teacher, in that regard.

A loud cough brought him out of his reverie. Harry lifted his head to see that Professor McGonagall was giving him a stern look. He probably looked like he was daydreaming again.

"Just weighing the pros and cons," he muttered hastily as he ducked his head to further glean whatever information he could get from the parchment. He didn't notice the glance that was exchanged between the two professors – the arch of Snape's brow and the marring of McGonagall's.

From what he could gather from the contract, he was, first and foremost, a student of Hogwarts – meaning that he was to be treated as such. However, he had the privilege of being Head Boy, meaning that privilege's had to be balanced out by duties.

Duties included helping to organize events, trips to Hogsmeade, patrolling the corridors at night (something that Harry doubted he would have trouble with…), awarding/deducting House points, assembling students in the event of an emergency, or an event in general, having control over the Prefects, and so on and so forth.

Privileges included the usage of the Prefects' Bathroom, having their own private dormitory, exemption from selected school events when their duties overrode it (Harry failed to see how  _that_  was a privilege), awarding and deducting points (also a duty, yet a privilege) and a number of other little details that Harry was sure he wouldn't even bother with.

And then there were the  _requirements_.

_The Head Boys will be expected to work together as one force, not two separate entities. As such, they will be sharing a dorm, but will have their own rooms for proprieties sake._

Again, Harry failed to see how that was any different from sharing a room with Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville, but…whatever. He'd have his own room,  _away_  from Malfoy, so he wasn't complaining.

_They will share duties between them and one will not be forced to do extra work without the other. Since they are the utmost leaders of Hogwarts' student body, any detentions they receive will not be looked upon lightly._

Harry swallowed. He was going to have hell to pay when Snape took advantage of this…

_The Head Boys will be expected to adhere to the rules of both the school and this contract. They will not be exempted from the most basic rules of the school unless given permission to do so by a member of the faculty._

_In regards to the private dorms, the Head Boys will be expected to share their dormitory but will not be sharing private rooms. Any misconduct, including violence and sexual activity, will result in the privilege of being Head Boy removed._

'Do they mean sexual activity between a Head Boy and other students…or do they mean  _between_  the Head Boys? Something tells me that they haven't properly changed this from a Head Boy and Girl contract…'

_A Head Boy will be permitted to invite a friend from any house, so long as the other Head Boy agrees to allow other students into the dorm._

'No luck there,' Harry thought glumly. 'But then again, I wouldn't allow any  _Slytherins_  unless he lets the Gryffindors in.'

_However, the Head Boys will be able to visit their respective dorms whenever they wish. The Head Boys will also be given an overriding password to access all House Common Rooms. It is expected that this privilege will not be abused._

Realizing that the other three occupants in the room were staring at him to finish, Harry swallowed and made his decision. He raised the quill and signed his name where required.

By the time Harry's slightly squiggly signature had covered all the needed aspects of the contract, Malfoy was seated back looking quite bored. His elegant and looped handwriting had fluidly signed any necessary parts expected of him within minutes of reading. Harry suspected that Malfoy must have had a great deal of contract signing when he was younger, for him to be so confident at what he'd just gotten into.

Idly, Harry wondered if he knew exactly what HE was getting into.

As soon as he was done, the ink on both contracts glowed and then disappeared. New words flooded both pages. It was the contract all over again, only changed to show that both Harry and Malfoy had signed it. Snape clapped his hands in what seemed to be a mocking gesture.

"Congratulations Mr. Malfoy,  _Mr. Potter_. Your duties will start immediately, but first," he pulled out his wand and gestured for the both of them to stand and come to him. "First, we have to seal the deal. Take out your wands."

"As if signing my name wasn't enough?" Harry grumbled as he pulled his wand from his robes and held it up.

"Join your hands," McGonagall instructed, rolling her eyes when the two boys glared at her, and then at each other.

"You mean…I have to  _touch_  him?" Malfoy hissed and Harry was surprised when he took on a rather green pallor. He really did look like he was going to be sick. Never one to comfort a Malfoy, Harry scoffed and grabbed Malfoy's cold hand in his warm one. Malfoy didn't move, only stared at Harry in shock. "You're  _touching me_."

"As we were asked,  _Malfoy_ ," Harry sneered in a way that would have put most Slytherin students to shame. They held hands, albeit rather awkwardly as Professor Snape stood between them.

"Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have, on this day – September 1st 1997 – signed the Head Boy contract, binding them to their duties, privileges and requirements. They will not be permitted to leave their duty as Head Boy unless certain conditions require them to, or if they are found to no longer be fit to carry out Head Boy duties.

Do you swear to adhere to all rules and requirements stated in the contract that both you, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, have signed?" Snape asked monotonously, staring at their clasped hands.

"I…I do," Harry whispered loud enough for them to hear, but the pounding in his ears made him feel as if he were deaf. This felt so…completely WRONG! Holding Malfoy's hand and saying 'I do', felt like he was selling his soul to the devil. Or worse, to Voldemort!

"I do," Malfoy answered firmly, sneer in place and aimed at Harry. Snape glanced from Malfoy's face to Harry's, lingering slightly on the latter before he settled his gaze on their hands and said, "So be it."

His wand touched their hands and a warm, tingling sensation raced up Harry's arm and settled like a pleasant buzz in his stomach, akin to drinking butterbeer on a frigid day. Harry released Malfoy's hand almost immediately and self-consciously wiped it down on the front of his robes. Malfoy sneered and cast Scourgify on his hands. Harry tried to hide his affronted expression. And then a thought occurred to him.

"Wasn't that an Unbreakable Vow? So does that mean that if either Malfoy or I break it, we die?" Harry asked curiously, more to Professor McGonagall than to Snape, for fear of having the older man sneer at him.

"What do you think, Mr. Potter?" Snape snarled, "Do you think that we, members of the Hogwarts' faculty, will be stupid enough to kill even our own students with such a dangerous oath? Then again, I might consider the Unbreakable Vow…there might actually be a chance of you listening to the rules for once."

Harry resisted the sudden urge to poke his tongue out at the Potions Master, but decided that since he'd have to be showing a level of maturity and respect from now on, he had better not. Instead, he merely turned his head away and settled his gaze on the contracts that McGonagall was collecting.

He watched as she tapped her wand, once on each paper, and they duplicated. The duplicates remained, but the originals scrolled themselves up and disappeared in a soft 'poof!'

"Dinner should be over. Despite your duties starting immediately, the both of you will first go to your dorms and settle in. Tomorrow, you will also be exempted from classes in order to have a training day with the newly elected prefects. I trust you both will retire to your respective rooms and," here, McGonagall paused, "that you will  _not_  get up to any mischief. This includes wandering the halls tonight  _and_  hexing each other into oblivion."

Harry could practically  _feel_  Malfoy's eyes roll and had to suppress a snort when, behind his Head of House, Professor Snape held a similar expression. But when Harry caught his eye, Snape sneered at him and then turned on his heel and stalked out of the room once the door unlocked itself.

The three stared after the Potions Master in silence before McGonagall gestured for them to retire to their rooms. She didn't accompany them.

There was an awkward silence as they walked to the third floor corridor. Harry held his tongue but Malfoy didn't even seem eager to start, much less keep, a conversation with him. They walked past a suit of armour, which, shockingly, barked out at them to come back when they had taken two further steps out of reach.

Harry and Malfoy both froze at the same time and their eyes met. Cautiously, Malfoy nodded to Harry and they withdrew their wands and whirled around, prepared to hex whoever had yelled at them to hell and back.

Instead, they were met with an empty corridor, save for a few snoozing portraits (a few disgruntled by the shout) and what seemed to be a shaking suit of armour. Harry narrowed his eyes and approached the heap of metal.

"Are you…laughing?" Harry asked, prodding the knight in the chest with his wand. The armour gave a hollow clunk as wood met metal. Harry felt his hair stand eerily on end as the suit of armour seemed to nod. There was nothing inside, but it spoke in a rather cheerful, disembodied voice with an odd echo. Harry resisted a second urge that night, that is, to pry open the helmet and take a look inside incase there was a tiny person in there.

"So I am, so I am," the armour shook, causing its joints to rattle nosily. "Are you the Head Boys?"

"So we are, so we are," Malfoy drawled, and Harry, for a moment, thought that the blond haired Slytherin was mocking the armour until he saw the amusement in the boy's grey eyes. When his eyes landed on Harry, however, the fun disappeared. "So you must be the guardian of our dorm?"

"Indeed I am, indeed I am," the armour repeated and Harry got the impression of it grinning. He allowed himself to smile and held out his hand.

"Harry Potter."

The armour stilled for a moment, before there was a soft grunt and a hand, attached to a sword, nearly sliced Harry's hand off. For a moment there, Harry thought that the armour wanted to cause him deadly harm, until the said suit began to apologize profusely.

"Sorry, sorry! This retched sword is attached to my hand, no thanks to that constant irritancy, Peeves. Do you think you could possibly unglue the sword from my hand?"

Harry decided he liked the guardian, probably better than the Fat Lady. A quick melting charm caused the glue to heat up and melt away, completely vanishing. He picked up the sword, which had landed on the floor with a loud clatter and promptly handed it to the suit of armour. A metal hand extended.

"Sir Jean De Buffet, at your eternal service."

Harry shook his…hand eagerly and the suit of armour turned to Malfoy.

"And you?"

"Draco Malfoy. I don't shake hands," the boy sneered, and then scowled when Harry quirked an eyebrow. It was apparent that neither had forgotten the rejection of Malfoy at the hands of Harry back in their first year – this very night, but six years ago.

There was an awkward silence and Sir Jean withdrew his offered hand. Harry resisted the urge to knock Malfoy on the upside of his head.

"So…" Harry began, pointedly ignoring the platinum-blond haired boy beside him. "Do we need a password or what? We weren't given one."

"The passwords are your own choice. I shall give you time to decide on one before you come in."

Harry felt his heart sink. Yet again, another situation that required him to talk to Malfoy. Oh well. Since they were expected to be working together 'as one force' for the entire year, talking to Malfoy would eventually be the least of his concerns. He turned stiffly to his companion.

"Well?"

"How 'bout…Potter Stinks? Or better yet,  _Mudbloods_ _Suck_?" Malfoy seemed to be the only one that enjoyed his little joke before Harry socked him good. He shook his hand to disperse the pain that throbbed there. Unfortunately, Malfoy cast a leg-locking curse on him from down below, causing Harry to pitch forward and land rather uncomfortably atop Malfoy.

"Oof!"

"Damn it, Potter! You aren't exactly a featherweight, so get the hell off me!" Malfoy snarled as he shifted uncomfortably beneath Harry's dead weight. His nose was a bright red, thankfully unbroken but still stinging painfully.

Sir Jean watched the situation unfold with much amusement.

"I can tell this is going to be an exciting year after all…"

Harry let out a yelp when he felt his head accidentally slide onto Malfoy's groin when the Slytherin tried to wriggle out from under Harry. Both boys seemed to freeze. And then, at the same time…

"POTTER!"

"MALFOY!"

"25 points from  _both_  Gryffindor  _and_  Slytherin. Now, refrain from acting like the impertinent dunderheads you are and settle this like the  _mature_ Head Boys that you are  _meant_  to be, and get to your dorms, immediately."

Needless to say, Professor Snape did  _not_  look pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rice-Ball247: Okay, okay, gimme a sec to get my mind in order... okies done! Last chapter, Harry was given the role of the Head Boy, as well as Draco Malfoy. I have no idea how Head Boys/Girls are selected, so I just made it up, as you can tell. Apparently, the Head Boy/Girl is selected from those who are already prefects, but I'm not entirely sure. You can read up on prefects at HP-Lexicon - that's where I check up with everything. If there are a little loose points/plot holes here, previously or in the future, I have to apologize. Then again, this is fanfiction, so I have a little leeway (though it's no excuse not to do research, I admit that, but I just want to write a little for fun).  
> At first, I originally had only 6th years be prefects before I realized that Ron/Hermione were prefects in their fifth year, so I had to do some... simple maths to iron out a few little quirks that you may find. I'm pretty sure I've found all of them, but anyway...
> 
> Oh! And also, at the start of this chapter, they received their timetables on the night of the Returning Feast. I'm sure McGonagall usually hands them out the next morning, but I had already written out the entire chapter before realizing my mistake and I didn't want to change it to morning. Sorry.


	3. Training for Disasters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter (see prologue).

_Last time..._

"25 points from  _both_  Gryffindor  _and_  Slytherin. Now, refrain from acting like the impertinent dunderheads you are and settle this like the  _mature_ Head Boys that you are  _meant_  to be, and get to your dorms, immediately."

Needless to say, Professor Snape did  _not_  look pleased.

* * *

Once they'd both settled on the password 'Furunculous Fairies', (actually, it had been more of Sir Jean's suggestion than their own) they discovered that Sir Jean could actually step aside, revealing a panel which opened up when the suit of armour had shifted. Harry nudged his way past Malfoy and stepped into the room first, the blond behind him grumbling all the way.

Harry stopped short in his amazement, causing Malfoy to run headlong into his backside.

"What! Potter, you idiot! Get your fat arse out of the doorway and move aside!" Malfoy snarled in irritation as he shoved the Gryffindor to the left. He, too, stopped, and glanced about the room with a curl of his lip.

"A bit... bland, but it'll have to do," Malfoy sighed dramatically as he threw himself into a plushy armchair. The room was decked out in neutral colours, mostly whites and light browns, thankfully, but here and there were the tell-tale signs of a Slytherin and Gryffindor _partnership_.

The floor underfoot was mostly timber, but there were comfortable looking rugs in the sitting area. Two armchairs that sat opposite each other, a coffee table and rather large couch, between them – the set took up the majority of the living room, which was to the left of the entrance way. To the right was just a wall that ran all the way to the other end, except for a break halfway which he presumed would lead to their private rooms.

Draco remained seated, staring moodily into the fireplace which was already lit, courtesy of the house elves, no doubt. Harry ignored the blond and continued to further investigate the dorm.

Further down the other end of the rather lengthy room was what Harry supposed would be the study area. A huge, L-shaped desk took up the entire corner, stretching across the span of one wall. Two chairs were tucked in neatly beneath the desks. Harry guessed that he and Draco would have to be sharing the study space, but at least they'd be facing different walls...

Both desks were empty, so that meant that they'd have to claim a desk and set it up with their supplies themselves. Harry turned back to see that Draco had already disappeared from his position on the couch. He figured that the blond must have already retired to his room.

The break in the wall obviously must have lead to the private rooms. He made his way to the space and was faced with a short hallway; a dead end, save for two doors on opposite sides and a portrait of a sleeping boy on a haystack.

There were brass plaques on the doors – one that said D. Malfoy, obviously not his, and the other was engraved with H. Potter. He pushed the door open without a glance at Malfoy's door and closed it behind him.

This time the room showed more of an obvious Gryffindor theme. The floor was carpeted with red and gold, but in more subdued tones that made him feel relaxed. The walls were bare, not a portrait in sight. To his left was a small bedside table with a lamp, which stood beside a four-poster bed that resembled his own back in Gryffindor Tower (actually, Harry suspected that this bed  _was_  his own) and on the other side of the bed was his trunk.

Opposite his trunk, pushed up against the corner of the room was a small desk and chair, which was beside a large looking wardrobe that ran along the entire wall. Harry sighted a letter on his desk. Never one to ignore his letters, Harry slid his nail beneath the wax seal and pulled out the crisp note from the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

_Harry,_

_I trust you find the dorm and private room to your liking. Do settle in as soon as possible. I know this may be slightly difficult with Mr. Malfoy only a few feet away in the other room, but unfortunately, there is nothing I can do to change the situation._

_The election of the school prefects and Heads is not mine to make. I understand your experience with goblets in the past was completely unexpected and unsolicited-_

At this, Harry snorted, thinking back to his fourth year and the unforgettable Triwizard Tournament.

_-but trust me on this one, there was no chance of anyone being able to manipulate the votes, as all students in the seventh year are up for election in Head duties._

_The goblet chose both you and Mr. Malfoy because it decided that the both of you, working together, would be the most beneficial team for the school. I have to admit, I myself had doubts at first, but I'm sure that when you and Mr. Malfoy set aside your differences, you'll be able to see that the both of you actually work quite well together._

_What did surprise me, however, was that there were two Head Boys elected for duty. Quite unusual indeed._

_Regardless, I'm sure that the two of you will find your seventh year to be the most exhilarating yet. If the pressure of the duty becomes too hard on you, remember, you have the support system of the prefects and the Hogwarts' faculty behind you. We are here to help, so do not be afraid to seek it._

_And please remember, Harry, do your best to avoid getting in trouble._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Harry only needed to read the letter once before he tucked it back into its envelope and stashed it away in his bedside table. A glance at his watch signified that it was already after-hours and he couldn't be stuffed to transfer his clothes into the wardrobe. There would be no chance of visiting Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room-

Unless...

_And please remember, Harry, do your best to avoid getting in trouble._

Well, if he was going to  _avoid_ getting into trouble...

He glanced at his trunk, where his Invisibility Cloak lay folded beneath many layers of clothing.

He might as well do his best.

* * *

"Ron. _Ron_ ," Harry hissed in his best friend's ear once he'd gotten to Gryffindor Tower and had taken his cloak off. He was right about the bed in his new quarters being his own from the Boy's dorm. The four remaining beds in the room had been shifted so that it was more spacious.

The red-headed male swatted at Harry's head in his sleep and groaned when Harry prodded his neck.

"Wha... Harry? What are you doing, mate?" Ron asked groggily and he shifted so that Harry could sit down beside him.

"Well... I wanted to talk to you, that's all. How's dorm life without me?" Harry asked him cheekily, a wide grin spreading across his face. Ron looked rather cross for a moment, before he seemed to remember something and laughed quietly.

"Well, had you had the opportunity to be here earlier, you would have walked in on Seamus and Dean cornering poor Neville." A nod from Ron towards said boy's bed caused Harry to give the boy in question a side-long glance. The others rarely pulled the curtains of their four-poster beds shut, unless they were getting up to unmentionables...

"Yeah? What for?" Harry asked, pulling a pillow out from under Ron so that he could

rest on it comfortably from its position in his lap. Ron bit his lip for a few moments, trying to quell the burst of laughter that would have surely woken up the other boys.

"Well... you know how Seamus and Dean were...  _experimenting_  with each other all of last year, yeah?" At Harry's nod, Ron continued, "Well, they ended up getting together over the summer holidays and they wanted to, and I quote, 'Spice up their sex life.' Unfortunately for poor Neville here, they thought that including the poor kid in their experimentation was the answer."

Harry shook his head in mock pity and grinned up at Ron. "And how are you and Ms. Granger coming along?"

Ron flushed red and playfully socked Harry on the arm. "Shush, you! If you must know,  _Ms. Granger_  and I are currently at a very frustrating point in our not-so-together 'relationship'," Ron used his fingers to mark inverted commas in the air. "Sometimes I just want to shut her up and kiss her and-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay,  _okay_ , Ron! I really don't need to know what you envision yourself and Hermione getting up to!" Harry blocked his friend's quiet laughter with his hands. The two friends quieted and fell into a comfortable silence.

Ron watched Harry fidget nervously, wringing the corners of his pillow between his hands. "Harry, you're going to rip my pillow to shreds if you don't stop that. What's wrong?"

Harry gave Ron a glance before glancing out the window beside his bed. "Well... I could start off with the fact that I'm Head Boy. That, in itself, is something that's wrong. I can't get into trouble without them putting more pressure on me."

"Why didn't you just turn it down?" Ron frowned, shaking his head. "Then they could have picked out a girl. Though I doubt anyone would want to suffer in the presence of  _Malfoy-_ " Here, Ron stopped short and visibly paled. "Mate... you have to share a dorm with him, don't you?"

"Problem number two," Harry sighed as he ducked his head into the plushy softness of Ron's pillow and then repeatedly bashed his head (rather ineffectively, considering that it was a pillow) into it.

"Look on the bright side. I'm sure that whatever unfair stunts that Malfoy will pull on us, you'll be able to fix right back up!" Ron grinned, and promptly looked confused when Harry groaned and continued his head-bashing.

"You've been hanging out with Hermione a little  _too_  much..."

* * *

Harry returned to his dorm well in the early hours of the morning, only to find Malfoy sitting on the couch reading a book.

"Isn't it a bit late to be reading?" Harry asked, trying to seem nonchalant as he slid the Invisibility Cloak off. There was no way he could have masked himself from Malfoy now – he'd already walked through the entrance.

"Isn't it a bit late to be sneaking around the school?" was the retort, and Harry could hear the malice behind the words. "Off to see your Weasel-boyfriend again, have you?"

Harry snarled and slapped the book out of Malfoy's hands, earning him a glare from the blond. "Don't talk about Ron like that, Ferret Face!"

"I'll do whatever I damn please, Scar Head!" Malfoy scowled, his hand twitching for his wand.

"Then so will I," Harry replied, trying to keep his voice calm but the fury that bubbled within him didn't allow such a thing. "I'm going to bed."

"I'm not your keeper," was the cool answer before Malfoy effortlessly summoned his book and retreated to his room. Harry glared daggers at the retreating back before he scoffed and returned to his own room, slamming the door in the process.

* * *

Needless to say, the confrontation with Malfoy that morning had easily set Harry's once-soaring mood well into the negatives, causing him to snap and bark at anyone who dared to annoy him.

Nearly every Slytherin, a few Ravenclaws and very little Hufflepuffs had jeered at him, saying that he was undeserving of the Head Boy role. The Hufflepuffs, mainly because some of them still hadn't gotten over the events that had occurred nearly three years ago; the Ravenclaws, because they believed that someone with more intelligence should be representing the student body; and the Slytherins because... well... they hated him, for lack of a better word.

But the Gryffindors, every single one of them, had Harry's back, which was enough for him. Today was the training day for the Head Boys and the Prefects.

Ginny Weasley and Colin Creevey had succeeded in becoming the Prefects for the sixth year Gryffindors and Harry was thankful, for once, that he actually knew the two quite closely. He recognized a few of the other Prefects, but unfortunately, was unable to put a name to a face.

Once the introductions were all good and done (Harry and Malfoy having to endure an outburst from the female Ravenclaw sixth year, who was angered by the fact there wasn't a Head Girl; she thought it was sexist), the Heads of House, Professors McGonagall, Snape, Sprout and Flitwick, were there to oversee the running of the day.

McGonagall, Sprout and Flitwick took charge of the Prefects, leaving Snape (unfortunately for Harry) to debrief Harry and Malfoy on their duties once again.

The day was rather tiring but enjoyable, nonetheless. Malfoy acted as his usual self, throwing in snide remarks whenever possible without detection. Snape had actually given them scenarios and awarded them for correct answers, to which he gave the easier ones to Malfoy (A student is caught wandering the corridors at night. What do you do?), and the more difficult ones to Harry (A Gryffindor is caught stealing potions ingredients from my private stores. Should you keep it a secret or report it to me?).

Not wanting to cause trouble, Harry bit down the anger he felt towards Snape (and Malfoy, who sniggered in the background) and answered in the way that would best placate the professor. Snape merely raised a brow before reluctantly awarding Harry two points to Gryffindor.

They rejoined everyone for lunch in the Great Hall, where he was immediately bombarded with questions by an excitable Hermione (it was the first day of classes after all) and an exhausted-looking Ron.

"Harry, Harry! How's your day been so far? My goodness, classes have begun and I'm already falling behind in my revision!" Hermione continued to fret, and Harry nodded numbly, knowing that Hermione wouldn't hurt him if he didn't respond. "Harry? Harry!"

"Huh?" said boy glanced up from his plate of fries and blinked blearily at Hermione.

"What...? Sorry. I'm just really," a yawn, "tired, s'all."

Hermione immediately frowned, glancing from Harry, to Ron, and then back to Harry yet again. "What did you two get up to last night?" came the suspicious question. "You both look like you stayed up."

"We did," came Ron's reply as he moodily stabbed his own fries with a fork and proceeded to shovel the food into his mouth. "And as soon as Harry left, I got jumped on by Dean and Seamus here."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at Ron, who rubbed his eye tiredly, completely unaware that he'd had his hand resting in the tomato sauce. Dean and Seamus were feeding each other and Harry felt a slight... envy of them. Not because it  _was_  them, but because at least they had each other.

And sooner or later, Ron and Hermione would have each other too. He felt strangely left out of the loop. Harry glanced up, looking past Hermione's shoulder to see Malfoy at the Slytherin table, his eyes trained on the back of Hermione's head. Harry's eyes narrowed.

'What the hell is Malfoy  _up_  to?'

The uneasy feeling in his gut continued to grow until he heard Hermione's voice calling out to him. Just in time, too, since Malfoy seemed to sense someone else watching him and his eyes averted from Hermione to Harry. Their eyes met for a moment, in which Harry was the first to break away.

"Sorry, Hermione. What did you say?" Harry asked politely, feeling decidedly full and pushing his plate away.

"I said, what about you? Why are you so tired? I mean, I know I saw you at breakfast, but you looked a lot better then than you do now," Hermione told him, daintily biting on a lettuce leaf. Harry grimaced.

"Are you on a diet?"

"No," was the quick reply. "Don't change the subject, Harry."

"Right then... well, I got back from Gryffindor Tower, barely avoided Snape-" here, Harry shot a nervous glance at the dark-haired man eating lunch at the Head Table "-and then came back to my room, only to have Malfoy insult Ron and then launch into an argument with me."

Beside him, Harry could feel Ron tense and Hermione pointed out that the redhead had tomato sauce smeared all over the left side of his face. Surprisingly, Ron only wiped it off quietly and resumed eating without a word. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances and then Hermione prompted Harry to go on.

"Well, you know that I have my training day today. So all the Prefects were with McGonagall, Flitwick and Spout, while Malfoy and I were stuck with  _Snape_ ," Harry spat out bitterly and decided that he was hungry again. Beside him, Ron snorted and almost choked. Harry, used to this happening whenever bad news and food were within Ron's proximity, handed him a goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Thanks, mate," came the strained reply as Ron proceeded to guzzle down the drink.

Hermione's lip curled and she turned her head attentively back towards Harry.

"So far, he's been putting me and Malfoy in scenarios, and being totally unfair while he's at it. The git makes my blood boil, I swear. I wouldn't be surprised if he and Malfoy were having clandestine meetings in his private quarters..." Harry sniffed and decided that he needed a drink.

"Harry! Really, that was unnecessary. And a relationship between a teacher and a student is so completely wrong!" Hermione chided him as she finished her lunch and began to search through her book bag for something. She pulled out a mirror and began to self-consciously check herself out in the reflection.

Ron nudged Harry discreetly. Hermione never bothered to check if she looked alright in the middle of the day. Sure, she'd head to the bathroom to see if she still looked tame after a day of classes, but she'd never actually carried a mirror around with her before.

Now if it were say, Lavender Brown or Parvati Patil, Harry wouldn't have been concerned. But it was  _Hermione_. And Hermione didn't care about her looks, not in a vain manner, anyway.

Hermione placed the mirror back in her bag once she was satisfied, and went back to scolding Harry. "And really, Malfoy and Professor Snape? That's so completely vile."

"Better than me and Malfoy," Harry bit back, feeling his stomach flip in disgust. And then he knew the comment that was about to come up next.

"Or Harry and  _Snape_ ," Ron muttered, but loud enough for the other two to hear. "Oh god, please tell me I did  _not_  just think that!"

He then proceeded to bang his head against the table, and Harry - despite his urge to vomit - had enough sense to pull the plate away before Ron's head could connect.

"Actually, now that I think about it," Hermione began slowly, giving Harry and Ron enough time to exchange horrified glances. Whenever Hermione 'thought about things', it wasn't usually good. "Harry and Snape together  _does_  have its merits. If we completely disregard the fact that he's a teacher and that they hate each other, I can see a romance in the making."

"Yes, but that's what make Harry and Snape,  _Harry and Snape_. Snape's a teacher, you can't change that, and they hate each other, and I doubt, highly, that you'd be able to change that," Seamus chirped in, deciding to push himself into the conversation. Beside the Irish boy, Dean agreed wholeheartedly.

"Still... I think I'll start to invest some of my time in story writing," Hermione mused, her eyes glazing over, indicative of the fact that a thousand and one thoughts were racing through her head at that moment.

Ron, unfortunately, didn't have the sense to pull the plate out from under Harry before his best friend decided to bang his head against the table.

* * *

Harry didn't know how they'd ended up in a conversation about him and Snape, but once lunch was done, Harry couldn't look the man in the eye without feeling the need to laugh, or be sick.

Thankfully, McGonagall took over Snape's duties, unfortunately unleashing him on the newly elected Prefects.

The Head of Gryffindor wasn't biased like Snape was, so unfortunately, Harry hadn't been able to earn some easy points like Malfoy had done with the Head of Slytherin.

McGonagall started to explain the point system to them and how many points were reasonable enough to reward and deduct in a situation. She gave them examples and explained to them that points couldn't be deducted if, for example, they were doing something other than being on duty and happened to mutter it aloud. She mentioned something about being in the presence of the student and that points couldn't be taken out of spite.

Harry resisted the urge to inform her that Snape had been doing just that since Harry's first day at Hogwarts. But McGonagall seemed to sense this and quickly informed the both of them in a subtle way (which Harry suspected was more for him than for Malfoy), that a point deduction could only happen if they happened to be doing something wrong.

Ah, good old McGonagall. Always defending the staff. Harry felt mild annoyance towards his Head of House before she launched off into another explanation, this time, for detentions.

Looks like this session would be a while...

* * *

At dinner, Harry sat beside Hermione this time and opposite Ron. He was horrified to learn that Hermione had already started a rough draft of a short novella she had started during her free period.

"Don't you usually use your free period to study more? And besides, what were you saying about student/teacher relationships before, huh?" Harry whined while Ron kicked him under the table. He lifted his head in time to see the futile warning before Hermione had started to talk about her newest project.

"I'm still going to be running S.P.E.W on the side, but I think this one would be more worthwhile for me. Did you know that Muggles write stories for their favourite books, movies, games, and television shows?" Hermione grilled them, her eyes sparkling with delight, "It's called  _fanfiction_. I didn't think you two would be interested in it, but it's really fun to do. And my first ever fanfiction is going to be about a teacher and a student who hate each other, but the professor has to get married to his student, so both can avoid the machinations of the Ministry of Magic. I'm still ironing out a few plot holes, but otherwise, it's looking quite promising."

"Let me guess, the student's name is Harry and the professor's name is Snape?" Ron asked dryly, trying his best to keep his dinner in his stomach and not regurgitated onto his plate. Hermione had the grace to at least blush before she took on a cheeky demeanor.

"And so what if they are? I happen to like my idea, thank you very much," Hermione sniffed before she pointedly turned away from the two boys and returned to her dinner.

Harry blanched when Hermione wasn't looking and sent Ron a panicked look from across the table. Ron could only give him a helpless look and dug into some juicy, fried chicken.

Harry reached across the table to pile some pasta onto his plate, only half-listening to the conversations that took place around them when the trio had fallen silent. He began to eat his food absentmindedly and was almost startled out of his seat when he'd accidentally grabbed Neville's fork to eat and the boy cried out for him to stop.

Hermione shot him an amused look and Harry felt a sinking sensation in his gut when she pushed her plate away and pulled out a notebook and pen.  _That_ , he figured, must have been where she wrote her story, her  _fanfiction_. Grimacing, he returned to his dinner.

"Harry, Harry! You have pasta sauce all over your cheek," Hermione admonished him for his messy eating habits. "Honestly, you, Ronald, and my father are all the same. Such messy eaters, men are."

As she continued to tsk and fuss over him, to the point where she, embarrassingly, began to wipe the white cream off his face, Harry happened to glance up and his eyes connected with, who else, but Malfoy.

The blond had an odd expression over his face and his eyes were glazed over, oddly. He seemed to be in a trance, or in deep thought. Finally, after a moment, the spell that was on Malfoy seemed to be broken and when he realized that he and Harry had been staring at each other from across the Great Hall, he sneered in disgust and went back to his dinner.

Harry didn't even have the chance to glare.

* * *

'What the bloody hell is wrong with me?!' Draco thought to himself as he ate his pasta slowly. He then realized that he and Potter had been eating the exact same food and promptly decided to change to roast instead.

The changing of his food only served to distract him from his thoughts for a moment before they returned in full force.

He'd been watching Granger, no,  _Hermione_ , talking animatedly to Scar Head and Weasel. A part of him wished that he was sitting at the Gryffindor table just so that he could hear her voice properly and know what it was that had gotten her so excited.

It was only when she turned to scold Potter for something that he had noticed his rival staring absently into his own plate with white cream smeared across his lips and lower cheeks.

He was disgusted when certain scenarios began to flash through his mind, replacing the white pasta sauce with something else.

He was horrified when he felt the tell-tale twitch and subsequent stirrings in his groin.

And was mortified further when he realized that he'd been caught staring at Potter...

By  _Potter_  himself.


	4. Too Strong a Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:There will be a slight SS/HP development in the story. Please don't let this put you off, but you'll have to read this chapter to understand exactly what I mean. Also, if you get any ideas about a Harry/Ron pairing, rest assured, it's not going to happen here (despite a certain line...)

_Last time..._

He was disgusted when certain scenarios began to flash through his mind, replacing the white pasta sauce with something else.

He was horrified when he felt the tell-tale twitch and subsequent stirrings in his groin.

And was mortified further when he realized that he'd been caught staring at Potter...

By  _Potter_  himself.

* * *

Harry felt a sense of déjà vu when McGonagall and Snape finished their dinner and went to fetch him and Malfoy to drag them off to the same classroom as yesterday. Harry drank down the last bits of his pumpkin juice and stole a bread roll from the table before following Professor McGonagall into the classroom, Snape and Malfoy behind him.

Once the two boys were seated and the door was locked, Professor McGonagall waved her wand once and two parchments appeared from thin air. Harry blinked as the two papers fluttered down gently to land on the desks in front of them.

"I'm sure that you've received your study timetable. You may dismiss that one. This timetable includes your study periods, your free periods – the basics. It also includes your duties and when you'll be expected to carry them out. You will alternate shifts on a nightly basis, one head boy with four fifth year and four sixth year Prefects a night. As you carry on into your N.E.W.T. exams, the Prefects will take over your night patrol, which will be an opportunity for you to study and rest," McGonagall ran them through their timetables. Harry studied his and noted that his turn to patrol was today.

"So... I just patrol the corridors and look out for anything suspicious and dock points for anyone out of bed?" Harry asked, feeling a twitch start to form under his eye when Snape glared at him intensely.

From behind her glasses, Professor McGonagall gave Harry an amused glance. "Yes, Mr. Potter. Anyone you find out of bed, who is not meant to be," she clarified. Clearing her throat, she stood straight and beckoned for them to leave. Once out, she called Harry back to her.

"Mr. Potter, a word, if you will."

Harry backtracked, feeling slightly intimidated when Snape sneered at him before stalking off to the dungeons, black robes billowing out behind him and Malfoy following dutifully behind. He figured that the Slytherin might have wanted to take this chance to visit his 'friends' in his house common room.

Bah. Whatever. Harry didn't care.

Professor McGonagall waited until she had Harry's full attention before she began.

"Now, Mr. Potter, it has come to my attention that you... are in possession of an Invisibility Cloak," she watched calmly, and waited patiently for Harry to stop choking on his own spit before she continued. "And despite the trouble you seem to attract, I would advise you that the use of your Cloak during your nightly patrols might not be such a bad idea."

Harry raised a brow. McGonagall was actually condoning this?

"However, I am only allowing this for the nights which you are on patrol and  _only_  when you are on duty. Any other reasons will not be covered for if you are caught gallivanting around the corridors outside of school hours," here, McGonagall have him a stern look over the rim of her glasses. It was amazing how intimidating she could be, especially when Harry was a good head above her. "Are we clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry responded, nodding, almost bowing his head and he glanced up in time to see his professor hiding a smile. "I'll be off now then. So, as soon as after-hours begins, my night patrol starts as well? And we meet in the Entrance Hall?"

When Professor McGonagall gave a positive nod of her head, Harry grinned and raced back to his dorm to fetch his Cloak, which he tucked into his robes, before darting off to Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

"So you have night-patrol duty? Good luck to you, mate. It was the most tiring thing  _ever_ , last year," Ron sighed as he slouched into a plushy seat in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. "Having to stay up and patrol until midnight. I think Snape hinted that he wanted catch you out, so he put me and Hermione in some pretty tight situations. Of course, we never caught you, you know that. And you know, having night-patrol can be creepy at times. I don't know how you can possibly wander around the corridors on your own at night, but it gives me the willies. "

Hermione didn't say anything. As it was, she was hunched over a desk just to the side, writing furiously without pausing for a breather. At Harry's raised brow, Ron merely mouthed ' _fanfiction_ ' and Harry understood. It still felt rather odd; to have Hermione writing what he supposed was a gay love story between him and Snape...

"So..." Ron started again, gazing almost adoringly at the back of Hermione's head before he turned his attention back to Harry. "After-hours starts in about..." a glance at his watch, "two minutes. You better get back to the Entrance Hall, stat."

Harry leapt out of his seat, bid his two friends goodbye and dashed out of the portrait hole as he raced down numerous flights of moving staircases to get to the designated meeting area.

From the sixth years, the male Slytherin and Colin were on patrol with him, as well as the female Ravenclaw (a grimace) and Hufflepuff; from the fifth years, Harry had the female Slytherin and Gryffindor Prefects, and the males from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. And to his misfortune, Professor Snape loomed behind the eight Prefects with a rather displeased snarl on his face. Harry swallowed thickly as he arrived.

"I should be docking points for your lateness, Potter," Snape bit out icily before he barked out orders and sent the Prefects off to different corners of the school, wands already drawn. Only he and Snape remained alone in the dark Entrance Hall, standing awkwardly in the silence. Harry could only see because of the light that the torches lining the walls provided.

"Well, Potter? Aren't you going to start your patrol?" Snape asked him; Harry detected a hint of mockery in his tone. And then, the expected insults came, "Or are these duties just too much for the Boy Wonder?"

"Shut up, Snape," Harry snapped before stalking past his Potions professor to head into a random corridor. Behind him, he heard the faint deduction of ten points – and  _felt_  the eyes boring into the back of his head as he took his leave.

* * *

Ron was right. Perhaps it was the fact that he'd only banked in a few hours of sleep the night before – Harry wasn't sure, but he was damn tired. He decided to use his Invisibility Cloak, travelling under it silently as he kept an eye out for anything that was suspicious. Of course, he probably wouldn't deduct points, unless it was a nasty Slytherin...

He didn't want to be biased, but what were the chances that Malfoy would take delight in ripping points away from the Gryffindor point tally?

After a few hours of patrolling, his watch indicating that there were only a few minutes till midnight, Harry came to the conclusion that only he would be the type to be out and about at night. It was either he was blind or there really  _were_ no students out after hours.

There were only two sections that immediately came to mind that he hadn't checked yet – Gryffindor Tower and the kitchens. He'd check the latter later. He wanted to go to Gryffindor, just for old time's sake.

As he was making his round past Gryffindor Tower, he viewed something he was sure he wouldn't have seen on a daily basis.

Draco Malfoy sat outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, concealed by the shadows, but watching the portrait nevertheless. Harry felt a shiver run up and down his spine. He remembered the way that Malfoy watched Hermione all the time and that rotten,  _filthy, disgusting_  desire he saw in his rival's eyes made him sick.

How dare he look at Hermione like that! And how dare he act so stalker-like! Harry stopped for a moment and watched Malfoy quietly. The boy really had no idea that someone else was in his presence.

For a moment, Harry felt his heart thud painfully hard in his chest, almost rising to his throat, like adrenaline. That expression on Malfoy's face shouldn't be there. It just didn't fit.

The look of hopelessness. Despair.  _Longing._..

It made Harry feel guilty for thinking of Malfoy in such a way, thinking of him as revolting; disgusting just because he might have...  _liked_  Hermione, his best friend. He knew he should have been finishing up his rounds, but instead...

Harry quietly slid down beside Malfoy, careful of the fact that he should have been completely concealed. He watched Malfoy for a few minutes more before he realized that the boy's eyes were glistening.

Again, that guilty pang returned to Harry's chest. He couldn't name it. He didn't want to name it. But it was there, throbbing dully and remaining unacknowledged.

Malfoy didn't cry, but he damn looked as if he were close to it. His eyes told it all. Harry bit his lip to keep down anything he might have accidentally said that would have startled Malfoy.

And then his now-seven-year rival said something completely out of character. Never, in all the time that Harry had had the misfortune of being in the presence and of being the constant ire of Draco Malfoy, had Harry heard such a thing from him.

"Shit. I love her..." Malfoy whispered to himself, staring stonily down at the hands in his lap. Harry remained seated and silent, even when Malfoy got up and walked away some ten minutes later, heading back to their dorm.

He didn't move and remained staring at the spot where Malfoy had sat until his watch beeped softly and he realized that patrol was over.

Harry returned to their dorm, Malfoy's words echoing loudly in his head. It had put his mind in an entire different state of chaos and new thoughts were bouncing around frantically.

If Ron liked Hermione, there was  _no way_  he'd be letting Malfoy near her,  _despite_  what he'd said.

After all...

Love was too strong a word. Harry was sure that even Malfoy had no clue as to what he was saying.

With that firmly in mind, Harry fell into a short, restless sleep that didn't do much to prepare him for  _his_  first day of classes.

* * *

"Harry, you look terrible," Hermione blurted out as soon as Harry had appeared in the Great Hall for breakfast the following morning. Harry had only banked in about three hours of sleep because he'd spent most of the night tossing and turning. He must have been exhausted two nights ago, because he'd fallen right asleep. But now that he was fully awake, he realized how chillingly empty the room had become without his fellow roommates.

He'd only managed to prepare his book bag and ended up having to replace some incorrectly chosen books (did one need Advanced Potions in Advanced Transfiguration? No, Harry didn't think so either), before making a mad dash to the Great Hall to get a seat. Obviously, there was no point, since Ron and Hermione would have hexed anyone who took the seat that they left especially for Harry. He was grateful for them.

"Thanks," Harry replied dryly as he fell into the bench space beside Ron, who was busy munching away at an assortment of sausages and bacon. "Good morning to you, too. It's nice to know that my looks aren't completely up to par after spending the night without getting a wink of sleep."

Hermione scoffed and flung a tiny morsel of toast at Harry's head. She was surprised when he didn't react at all, opting instead to stare at his empty plate like someone had robbed him of his birthday presents.

"Harry...? What's wrong?" Ron asked him, nudging his elbow gently. Harry shook his head and gave them an impromptu grin.

"Nothing. S'nothing," he sighed and began to pile his breakfast onto his plate. To be honest, he didn't feel hungry at all, but knowing what an exhausting day was to come, he decided to just force himself to eat so that he'd have the energy to stay awake.

"You should visit Madam Pomfrey. She must have something to make you feel better, or at least, something to ease your sleeping habits at night," Hermione advised him as he began to nod off at the table. "Harry!"

Harry snapped out of it and gave his cheeks a firm pat on each side. He shook his head and flashed them a grin. "No problem. I'll be fine. Just had a really rough night, that's all."

"Did  _Malfoy_ ," Ron spat out the name with disgust, "give you a bad time, mate? Coz if he did..."

The threat remained lingering in the air. Harry reached over and lightly patted Ron's arm to calm him. "No, don't worry. It's not his fault."

'Yes it is,' Harry thought darkly, refusing to lift his head from the table to see if Malfoy just so happened to be staring at Hermione. Because he  _knew_  that the Slytherin  _was_. 'Why'd he have to go and say that stuff about like... loving Hermione, anyway? Granted, I wasn't meant to be there, but still... '

"Harry, maybe you should visit Madam Pomfrey," Colin chirped, his mousy brown hair falling about his face as he nodded excitedly. "I was so excited last night, walking through the corridors on my own and I couldn't sleep a wink. Here, I'll come with you!"

Before Harry could protest, the Prefect had jumped up off the bench and pulled the Gryffindor Head Boy out of the Great Hall by the hand. Harry didn't notice the pairs of eyes that followed him as he went.

But Ron did. He was busy glaring at Malfoy, who was staring at  _something_  at the Gryffindor table - but as soon as Harry stood up, the slimy Slytherin had trained his eyes on him, watching as he left.

Ron felt his blood boil. How dare Malfoy look at Harry?!

* * *

Harry seemed to be going through the motions in a daze that day. He'd paid attention in class, determined not to fool around now, especially since he had such an important role. But still, he couldn't help but feel that his mind and heart wasn't into studying at the moment.

"Argh!" Harry let out a frustrated growl as he clenched his fists in his unruly hair. Currently he was in his room, opting to work on his homework at the smaller desk instead of outside in the study area with Malfoy.

Right now he didn't want to be anywhere  _near_  the blond. If it were possible, he would have stayed the hell away – kind of difficult, considering they were sort of living together.

But obviously, his Transfiguration homework wasn't going to be completed on its own, and that 10-foot essay that Snape had issued on the first day (nobody had Potions on Monday, thankfully) of Potions class was sitting idle on his desk.

"Okay Harry! Start. Just...  _do_  it!" he told himself, heaving a sigh as he pulled himself closer to the desk. "Start by opening your inkwell. C'mon, open it!"

He gingerly unstoppered the new bottle and set it aside. He didn't understand why wizards didn't just use pens. It was so much more convenient. The ink was already  _in_  it, and there was no requirement to continuously return to the inkpot. And they thought that Muggles were technologically decrepit.

Harry blinked. No, not technologically decrepit. Most of the Wizarding population had no idea what a telephone was, or a television, or a  _toaster_.

"Gah!" Harry hissed when he realized that his thoughts were straying yet again. "Okay, Harry! Take your quill and dip it in the ink and write, damn it!"

He spent the night quietly giving orders to himself, and yes, at one point, he thought himself insane, until he remembered that he was  _Harry Potter_  and he was  _never_  normal. The room, lit by a Muggle-looking light attached to the ceiling (Harry doubted it was a Muggle light, though), was silent, save for Harry's occasional chats to himself and the scratching of the quill as he wrote upon the parchment.

He almost didn't hear the knock upon the door. When the knocks became loud bangs, Harry jolted up out of his seat and, putting on his fiercest scowl, hauled open the door and glared at whomever it was that dared to interrupt him. Of course it would be Malfoy. Bloody  _Malfoy_.

"I was sent to fetch you," Malfoy told him tonelessly. "You have to help with duties tonight as well." He raised his arms in defence when Harry narrowed his eyes. "Not my call, Potter. Snape's."

" _Snape_?" Harry spat out the name as if it were a particularly bitter type of food. "What do you mean,  _Snape_  told you to get me? I did my duty last night! I need to do my homework, Malfoy. And I need sleep!"

He prepared to shut the door in Malfoy's face when a hand blocked it from snapping shut. He glared at the offending hand and then up into Malfoy's angered expression.

"It's not my bloody fault you went missing last night! Professor Snape tried to track you down because he found some  _Gryffindors_  sneaking around the kitchens and he wanted you to deal with it. Only  _you_  disappeared and he thinks that you skipped out on duty," Malfoy finally snarled, pushing the door open wider. Harry winced when it bumped rather painfully against his bare foot. "Five minutes, Potter. Be there."

The tone Malfoy used was a warning one – no room for arguments. Sighing, Harry gave his unfinished homework a longing glance before he took off after Malfoy, leaving his Invisibility Cloak behind. Besides, it wasn't  _his_  night to do duty. He'd argue with Snape first. This was completely unfair!

How the hell was he supposed to prove to Snape that he  _was_  doing his night-patrol last night? And how the  _heck_  would Snape know that Harry had disappeared?

Okay, technically, he'd done  _most_  of his night-patrol, stopping only to sit beside Malfoy – he didn't know why, now that he thought about it. He should have just scared the stupid git and made off with the knowledge that he was a lovesick prat. Then again, that might have been a little  _too_  slack. And Slytherin.

Anyway, back to the problem at hand – How could Snape have known that Harry had disappeared, especially with the knowledge that he was in possession of an Invisibility Cloak,  _and_  he'd seen Harry go off to do his rounds.

Unless... he'd been following Harry at some point. Now that Harry thought about it, he'd completely bypassed the kitchens in favour of going to Gryffindor Tower, simply for the sake of visiting his old dorm.

And Snape... he must have gone to the kitchens to patrol that area. And he hadn't seen Harry. Harry groaned. Of  _course_  Snape couldn't have seen him. He was bloody invisible! Scowling, Harry arrived at the Entrance Hall to see Malfoy talking with Snape in hushed tones, and the four other Prefects, including Ginny, all waiting patiently.

At his arrival, Malfoy lifted his head and smirked. That can't have been good. He dreaded looking at Snape, but he couldn't help it. It was like watching a train ride to disaster; carnage was always pretty.

But the menacing tilt on Snape's lips weren't. In fact, he looked downright scary.

"Mr. Potter," he began, his voice a silky baritone. 'No Harry, don't listen to the voice!' Snape's lip curled in what Harry presumed was  _delight_  for him, but to Harry, it made him look even more frightening. "As punishment for skipping on your duties last night, you will be on night-patrol with me, for the  _entire_  night. And fifteen points from Gryffindor, for carelessness."

Ginny and Harry made undignified squawks. "Do you want to make that another twenty?" came Snape's deep voice, narrowing his dark eyes as they darted from one Gryffindor to the other.

Silence prevailed over the group until Snape, similarly to the night before, barked out orders and they scattered.

"Cheers, Scarhead," Malfoy's taunt had to go without retort, because Snape was in the mere vicinity. Harry bit his tongue until it began to throb.

"Now Mr. Potter, shall we?"

Harry figured that a person lining up to be executed pretty much would have understood exactly how he felt at that moment. Silently, he stepped closer to Snape's looming form. God he was so damn tall...

Before Harry could react, Snape had tapped his wrist and made a long, deliberate stroke across the air between them to his own. Seconds later, what appeared to be a thin chain, glowing faintly in shimmering gold, appeared on Harry's wrist, connecting it to Snape's.

"You won't be going anywhere until I release this charm," Snape said, his voice dangerously low. "I don't care what excuse you'll come up with, Mr. Potter, but skipping out on your Head Boy duties is  _not_  the right way to go about starting the year."

"But I-" Harry began in protest, only to be silenced when Snape's face drew frighteningly closer.

"Do  _not_. Contradict. Me," he spoke again in a barely audible whisper, but since they were alone in the darkness, it only served to further emphasize the words. "Now follow and be silent."

Harry did as he was told and followed Snape, straining the chain between them as much as possible. When it became apparent that his Potions professor was getting frustrated, the man yanked on the chain, causing a burning sensation to wrap around Harry's wrist. Harry whimpered and glared at the greasy head of his teacher. Snape paid him no mind.

Harry didn't know how long it had been since night-patrol had started and he didn't bother looking at his watch. Moments later, a familiar blond head came into view.

"Professor," Malfoy spoke calmly and gestured to a group of frightened third year Hufflepuffs. "I caught this bunch loitering about near the kitchens."

Snape's lip curled – whether in pleasure at Malfoy doing the job right, or at displeasure due to the caught students, Harry didn't know. He didn't  _want_  to know.

"Good. Twenty points to Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy," he smirked, and then turned on the third years with a frown. "And twenty points from Hufflepuff,  _each_ , for being out of bed after hours."

"B-but Professor Snape, sir," one child bravely spoke up, albeit with a stutter. Inwardly, Harry winced at the kid's foolishness, "Mr. M-M-Malfoy al-already took-took off p-points, s-sir..."

"Don't lie to me," Professor Snape hissed. "Return to your dorms immediately. If I see any of you foolish miscreants wandering the halls again, it  _will_  be detention."

Harry wondered, for a split second,  _why_  people bothered coming to Hogwarts if teachers such as Snape continually made students cry. He pitied the group of four, having already lost over eighty points in total, within the first week of school. Sighing, he allowed himself to be pulled along as the Hufflepuffs disappeared.

Malfoy walked alongside Snape, tilting his head back momentarily to smirk at Harry in a condescending manner. Harry merely scowled.

* * *

"Furunculous Fairies," Harry sighed to Sir Jean, rubbing his throbbing and  _raw_  wrist gingerly. The suit of armour moved aside, but also leaned over to grab Harry's arm to inspect it.

"You might want to get that checked soon, Harry. It doesn't look too good," the armour tapped the skin surrounding the reddish welts. Malfoy had already pushed Harry aside and flopped into an armchair, then grabbed the book he had been reading from the table.

Harry pulled his wrist away and flashed Sir Jean a tentative smile. "Don't worry about me. My friend, Hermione, will probably fix it up tomorrow. Thanks for your concern, though, Sir Jean."

He vaguely registered the fact that Malfoy's head had snapped up and was fixed on him curiously.

"Not at all, Harry, not at all," the disembodied voice echoed before sliding back into place as Harry stepped through. He stopped, however, when he realized that Malfoy was still staring at him.

"What?" Harry sighed as he sat himself in the armchair opposite Malfoy, pulling his knees up to his chest. He made sure to keep his eyes trained on the glowing embers in the fireplace. Malfoy said nothing and Harry didn't bother to start a conversation.

Closing his eyes, Harry delicately ran a finger around the red imprint on his wrist, leaning back against the soft headrest and slowly drifting off to sleep.

" _Hermione!"_

_Harry watched from afar as his best friend turned to see Malfoy striding up the corridor, his robes aflutter, his face flushed red._

_Hermione cocked her head to the side innocently, but her expression was guarded. "Yes, Malfoy?"_

_The blond Slytherin sucked in a deep breath. "Please, call me Draco. You see... I..."_

" _You what, Mal- Draco?" Hermione asked, stumbling over the awkward name. She'd been able to pronounce his name in passing, but when it came to acknowledging their long time rival face-to-face, it was a bit strange on the tongue._

" _I... I like you," Malfoy's face flushed deeper. Hermione watched him carefully for a moment, her eyes narrowed and her lips pinched in a tight line. Suddenly around the corridor, a familiar redhead turned the corner and came up behind Hermione._

" _Malfoy. What are you doing with my girlfriend?" Ron sneered, his hand already moving to his wand, hidden in his robes. Malfoy looked a little stricken and took an awkward step backwards._

_Harry had never seen him look so flustered in his life. This was worse than the 'amazing bouncing ferret' stunt that Mad-Eye Moody (or Barty Crouch Jr., if you wanted to be technical) had pulled off in fourth year._

_And he didn't know why, but as Ron stepped forward to aim a hex at Malfoy's face, Harry bolted out of his hiding space, crying "RON, NO!" and tackled Malfoy to the floor to rescue him._

_Silence in the corridor ensued, before Ron flipped._

" _Harry!? What the hell are you doing? I nearly_ _ **HAD**_   _him!" Ron screamed, his eyes furious and his face almost purple with rage. Beside him, Hermione had gone pale._

" _Harry... Harry... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" her hands flew to her mouth, trying to shut her loud sobs away. Beneath him, Harry could feel Malfoy stirring._

" _Po-Potter, gerroff me! Get up! I said, get up!"_

"GET UP, Potter! Or you'll be late," someone smacked him upside the head and Harry winced at the stinging sensation. Right, it was Malfoy.

He unconsciously rubbed his wrist, expecting to find the bruises from yesterday settling in, only to awaken properly when he realized his wrist had been healed. He wordlessly glanced up at Malfoy, who was already on the other side of the room, stuffing books into his book bag in the study area.

His desk beside Malfoy's was bare, having not used it yet.

"What time is it?" Harry asked as he pushed himself off the armchair and stretched, flinching when his neck protested. He rubbed the sore muscles there, trying to iron out any cricks that had formed as a result of sleeping awkwardly on the armchair.

"Go check for yourself. All I know is that classes are going to start in ten minutes," Malfoy answered, glancing at Harry over his shoulder. He checked his bag once more before he strode towards the entrance. "And we have potions first. And," here, Malfoy wrinkled his nose, "You haven't showered yet. You stink, Potter."

The last statement held a sense of amusement for Malfoy, remembering back to fourth year, when the infamous 'Potter Stinks!' badges had circulated around the school, especially around the Slytherins.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry grumbled as Sir Jean stepped aside and the wall gave way for Malfoy. He didn't bother to see if Malfoy had left, making his way to his room to gather his books.

Great. Potions first thing in the morning. He glanced at his table. AND SHIT, he hadn't finished his homework yet!

* * *

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for unfinished homework," Snape's icy voice gave Harry the chills – the  _bad_  kind of chills. The sort Harry got whenever he felt  _really_ frightened, like in his first year. "Another five points for being tardy."

Harry scowled. Snape breezed past him and then halted. Looking over his shoulder he smirked. "Oh and Potter, detention right after dinner."

Double  _shit_. The Slytherins began to laugh. The Gryffindors didn't.  _Harry_  didn't.

How the heck was he supposed to catch up on unfinished homework now? He had  _duty_  tonight!

* * *

"Professor Snape is a complete  _bastard_ ," Ron hissed as soon as soon as they left the Potions classroom. Harry could only nod feebly as they walked together to Charms. "Does he get off on torturing you, or something?"

Harry paled. Beside them, Hermione brightened, "Ron, you're brilliant!" and promptly threw her arms around him. Ron blinked, and then flushed two seconds later.

"What... what am I brilliant for, 'Mione?" Ron stuttered, cheeks adorably red. Harry grinned as Ron glared at him.

"You gave me an idea for my new story! This time, Harry and Snape can be in one of  _those_  relationships. You know, the dominant and submissive type thing? And Snape can be a sadist and Harry can be a masochist!"

The grin on Harry's face was wiped off. "Hermione! That's disgusting!"

"No it's not!" Hermione stuck out her tongue as she pulled out her notebook and jotted it down as they walked. Ron raised an eyebrow.

"Erm... what happened to that other story about Harry getting married to Snape?" he asked out of curiosity. Harry couldn't help but feel inquisitive as well. Hermione's smile widened.

"Oh that  _fic_. I've finished it and posted the first few parts on the internet, using the Muggle Studies computer lab. It's been really successful amongst Muggle-born witches and wizards, and a few Muggles have read it as well. They really like it," Hermione informed them cheerfully. At their confused expressions, Hermione laughed. "You can  _tell_  the difference between a Muggle and a wizard or witch. The magic-folk actually  _know_  who Harry and Snape are, especially who Harry is. Whereas the Muggles think that I'm writing this just for the sake of writing."

Harry paled immediately. "You posted it on the  _internet?_ "

Ron, apparently, had no association with a computer, much less the internet before. Harry had sneaked into Dudley's room and used his computer while the Dursleys went out to eat, or just went out to have some 'Harry-free' time.

"What's this intranext thing you're talking about?" Ron questioned them, thinking that it must have been something pretty important, or pretty  _bad_  if Harry had reacted as such.

" _Internet_ , Ronald. It's a Muggle system. Almost anyone can access it. Anyone with a computer, that is," she added with a smile. Ron frowned.

"What's a..." he paused, "a  _compeeyuuter_?"

"A Muggle device. Ask your dad when you have the opportunity," Hermione smiled as she pulled open the door to the Charms classroom. Harry's stomach gave a lurch. Damn, he had missed breakfast, too!

"Uh... never mind then. I don't want to be stuck listening to my dad droning on for hours," Ron grimaced as they took their seats, waiting for Professor Flitwick to arrive.

* * *

Harry was grateful when lunch came and he was relieved of his hunger. He hungrily scarfed down anything on offer and sealed the deal with some pumpkin juice and a crisp, green apple.

He breezed through the next few classes with relative ease, happily sated thanks to his lunchbreak. Hermione found the situation to be entirely unfair and volunteered to help (and  _only_  help, unfortunately) with his remaining homework. She found it completely unjust that Snape had given him extra duties the night before, when it wasn't Harry's turn, and then given him a detention that lasted right up until night-patrol started again. In her own words, "Where on  _earth_  are you going to find the time to do your homework?" and that had been the driving force of her anger.

But by the time his detention had rolled around, Harry was no longer in a happy mood. Checking that all his stuff would be prepared for tomorrow (after all, what are the chances that he would have the opportunity to pack, when he'd be beyond exhausted the next morning?), he left the dorm for the dungeons.

He squared his shoulders when he arrived at Snape's office and knocked on the door firmly. No reply. He knocked louder.

"In here, Mr. Potter," came Snape's voice from the Potion's classroom, which was adjacent to his office. Harry took the few steps needed and entered his classroom. It was lit brightly, a lot brighter than when he'd usually been in class. "You're on time for once. At last I can see the result of constantly putting you in detention."

Snape's lip curled as Harry glowered. His Potions professor bore down upon him, obsidian eyes glittering with anticipation of a night for punishment.

"You will not be cleaning cauldrons or pickling rat's brains today, Potter. You'll be brewing a potion, instead," Snape told him calmly, gesturing to a worktable with only a cauldron beside it.

Harry didn't speak, merely watched his teacher as Snape stared down his hooked nose at him. "Get a move on, Mr. Potter. Instructions are on the board. I sincerely hope you won't bollocks  _this_  particular potion, as it is extremely volatile. One wrong move and you'll find yourself melted in with liquefied pewter."

Harry barely managed to hide his anxiety at Snape's words. He knew that Harry wasn't going to be able to do this. Then again, whenever they were in groups, Harry was stuck with Neville Longbottom (how again did the boy get into  _Advanced Potions?_ ), and when it was solo work, Malfoy always took the opportunity to add ingredients to 'enhance' Harry's work.

And Snape was, conveniently, always looking the other way whenever Malfoy did so.

Oh well. Might as well start.

Harry sighed and resigned himself to his detention. He read the instructions written in chalk on the blackboard carefully, and then twice more before gathered the necessary ingredients. Behind him, he could feel Snape's eyes watching him intently.

Harry began the necessary procedures in potions preparation. Unless specifically stated, all ingredients were to be prepared  _before_  lighting the cauldron. Snape, after spending many years teaching dunderheads, was wise enough to not run the risk of having someone panic in the middle of class because their timing was off, or put in too much or too little of an ingredient.

He felt sweat begin to seep through his pores as he worked, being especially careful not to botch this one up. Snape's cryptic advice was enough to get him working hard.

'So far, so good,' Harry thought to himself as the potion simmered gently – a good sign. Rapid boiling meant that the temperature was too high for the ingredients in the potion, and as a result, meant that a violent explosion was to occur. He'd followed the instructions on the board to a T, and felt mildly proud that he'd managed to complete this on his own.

As he began the stirring process, Harry froze when he felt a solid warmth against his back. He was standing a good distance away from the cauldron, the  _safety_  distance, so as to not get burned by the hot metal, but when he felt a body being pressed up against him, he took a step closer to the cauldron, heat be damned.

"Not too close, Potter, or you'll be burned," purred Snape's low voice from behind him – frighteningly, it was directly beside his ear. His hot breath caused Harry to shiver and as a result, his hand movements became unsteady.

A hand on his hip brought him backwards against Snape's front and another hand went to steady Harry's hand. He couldn't take it anymore.

Without so much as a warning, Harry pushed back against Snape, causing the man to stumble backwards, and bolted out of the classroom. Forget detention. That just  _wasn't_  right.


	5. Help and New Contracts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rice-Ball247: wahooooo! Chapter Four! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Err... I really can't decide whether the Draco/Harry relationship is moving fast or slow (now that I reflect upon it, it FEELS like it's been dragging on forever, but another part of me is screaming that it's moving too fast).

_Last time:_

A hand on his hip brought him backwards against Snape's front and another hand went to steady Harry's hand. He couldn't take it anymore.

Without so much as a warning, Harry pushed back against Snape, causing the man to stumble backwards, and bolted out of the classroom. Forget detention. That just  _wasn't_  right.

* * *

Harry, still shaken as a result of the detention the night before, wisely stayed away from the Potions professor whenever an opportunity presented itself. Ron and Hermione gave him weird glances, but Harry ignored them. There was  _no way_  he was going to tell them about what had happened,  _especially_  Hermione.

Luckily for him, Professor McGonagall was in charge of night-patrol for the next three days, so Harry didn't have to worry about late night encounters with Snape. Harry didn't allow himself to be distracted in Potions class and focused solely on his potion brewing. He kept a cautious eye on any Slytherins who were looking to jeopardise his work, and was determined to not allow anything to drop into his cauldron.

Harry wasn't sure if Snape was pleased that he was actually striving hard to do well in Potions, or irritated that he couldn't punish Harry. Snape didn't seem to be complaining, though. He reacted the same way as usual, favouring the Slytherins and unfairly deducting points from Gryffindor. Occasionally, he would do something to spite Harry, like insult his intelligence, but it never resulted in a detention.

Whatever. Harry was glad.

Malfoy had been a little on edge as of late as well. Harry couldn't quite name it, but the other Head Boy seemed to be jittery, as if someone would come out and startle him. He seemed to be normal in classes, because he always had something to focus on, from what Harry could see.

But in places such as the Great Hall and their dorm, Malfoy had no such reprieve. It wasn't that Harry was always watching him, or  _worried_  about him, but if Malfoy kept this up, he'd be putting even  _Harry_  on the brink of paranoia. Was Voldemort starting some weird Death Eater plot that the Order wasn't aware of?

Malfoy still seemed to be watching Hermione – at meal times, he'd always arrive a little later than her, and would sit so that he was opposite her at the Slytherin table, just so that he could see her face. Harry had to admit, it was kind of...  _sweet_ , but knowing Malfoy, this could have been some sort of unknown hex that the blond was planning, which required constant view of the victim.

Why not use it on Harry though? Why Hermione? Because she was a Muggle-born? Harry sighed. This was really staring to irk him.

And then in the corridors, whenever Harry turned,  _Malfoy_  seemed to always be somewhere near. It didn't help that he had all classes with Hermione, and as a result, had  _most_  classes with Harry as well. Malfoy would cast a longing glance at Hermione, then Harry would catch his eye and both boys would sneer at each other.

The dorm was no better. Harry would keep to his own, usually locking himself in his own room as Malfoy did the same. But eventually, working at his small desk became a bit tedious, since it was only intended for things such as private letter writing and such. The large, L-shaped desk outside in their 'common room' study area was more suited for studying.

The desktop was spacious and, with the right stuff, could be well equipped. Harry eventually conceded and made use of the workspace. To be honest, having Malfoy just a few paces away, within arm's reach, wasn't as bad as Harry thought it would be. Malfoy worked hard on his homework, and quietly, too.

He always finished before Harry, so he'd leave before Harry got too frustrated and took it out on him.

But lately, Malfoy had been distracted whilst doing his homework. Previously, he had never tapped his quill annoyingly against the tabletop, nor had a day passed when he wasn't baiting Harry (or hexing him for that matter). At first, Harry thought it had been some sort of petty aim of Malfoy's to annoy Harry this way, but when he turned to reprimand him, Malfoy seemed completely engrossed in his own thoughts, gnawing on his bottom lip with what appeared to be worry. Harry wasn't too concerned. Let the git work it out on his own!

Usually whenever Malfoy did that, Harry would cast a small silencing charm around himself so that Malfoy's noises would be blocked out. It worked, except when Malfoy had news to inform him about, which required Malfoy to actually  _touch_  him to get his attention. More like shove, rather.

Finally at the end of the third week of school, after Harry had returned from his night-patrol duties, he returned to the dorm to see Malfoy pacing the floor between the fireplace and the coffee table. Harry sucked in a breath and for the first time, asked if his rival of now  _seven_ _years_ , was okay.

Malfoy lifted his head and stared at Harry long and hard. No expression flitted across his face and for a moment, Harry thought that the other boy was thinking what an idiot he was. That is, until Malfoy sighed and dragged a hand through his hair, looking the exact picture of frustration.

"I..." he began, sounding like he was in pain. Harry waited patiently. There was no point in starting an argument when he was already tired and Malfoy looked like he was going to slip off that metaphorical cliff at any second now. Malfoy sucked in a breath and looked Harry in the eye. "I need your help, Potter."

Harry blinked. Well, that was different. Certainly not what he was expecting, but alright. Still, it helped to be on guard. Just because Malfoy was acting... well,  _un_ -Malfoy-like, it didn't mean that Harry could just accept it and leave it be. In fact, it was quite the contrary – he'd be alert and aware  _because_  Malfoy was behaving  _un_ -Malfoy.

Harry waited for Malfoy to continue. The blond sighed again and sat down awkwardly on the couch. He glanced up at Harry expectantly and he sighed, sitting down on the couch as well, but on the far end. Malfoy scoffed. Harry glared.

"Okay... I'll be blunt. Here's the thing: I need to know what sort of things Weasley likes," Malfoy muttered, averting his gaze away from Harry to the fireplace in front of him. Harry blinked again.

 _What?_  He wanted to know what  _Ron_  liked?  _Ron Weasley?_  Knowing Ron, anything that he would have received from Malfoy would be completely rejected. But wait, wait!

Why would  _Malfoy_ , of all people, want to give  _Ron_  something?

No. He just wanted to know what Ron liked. But why  _Ron?_  It just didn't make sense. Didn't Malfoy fancy Hermione? Harry felt his head start to spin. Urgh. Why did all this relationship stuff have to be so damn complicated?

What if Malfoy only watched Hermione because he was jealous of her? But no, what about that time at Gryffindor Tower, when Malfoy had sat outside the portrait of the Fat Lady and said 'I love  _her_ ' to himself? It sounded like he had originally had difficulty coming to terms with such affection for a  _mudblood_  (Harry inwardly winced), but had suddenly realized his feelings.

His gut twisted about and Harry felt his head feel lighter, but his chest felt heavier. Malfoy was quiet, waiting for Harry's answer.

"Why?" Harry asked, before answering. Malfoy gnawed on his bottom lip again, looking like he wanted to vomit from having to admit this all to  _Harry Potter_  of all people.

"I... I want to woo him," Malfoy muttered, ducking his head when Harry leapt to his feet and exclaimed loudly, 'WHAT?' Malfoy merely glared at him and Harry sat back down beside him, but this time, he didn't care about pushing himself to the other side of the couch.

"Ron?  _You_  want to woo  _Ron_?" Harry asked, biting his tongue in an effort to refrain from adding 'not Hermione?' at the end of that.

"Did I stutter?" Malfoy snapped heatedly, his cheeks flushing red. Harry pointed out that, yes, as a matter of fact, he did. Sighing, Malfoy rolled his eyes and flung his head back against the backrest of the couch. "So are you going to answer me? I answered you."

"I'm not obliged to answer you, Malfoy," Harry replied coolly, his voice steady. But what if this was an opportunity for things between Slytherin and Gryffindor to get better? It didn't necessarily mean that Ron had to  _like_  being wooed, by Draco Malfoy no less, but Harry didn't need to inform Malfoy of that little titbit of information.  _Still_ , if Malfoy, who was held in high regard around the Slytherins, was distracted with wooing Ron, then that means that all the other Slytherins will probably take his example to heart. Not necessarily all wooing Gryffindors – there wasn't enough to go around – but being  _nice_  to others in general. "But..."

Malfoy's face, once dejected, had brightened at Harry's change of heart. He raised his head to lock his gaze onto Harry's. Harry felt himself grow embarrassed. This was going to be weird...

Malfoy blinked and then gave Harry a semi-awkward smile. "So Wizard's Chess, eh? And Quidditch. The Chudley Cannons, right?"

Harry nodded, not trusting his voice to betray him at that moment. Malfoy seemed to be in contemplation for a moment and then rose from his seat. Harry stood as well, walking around the other side of the couch when Malfoy hadn't moved. Just as he reached the small hallway that led to the private rooms, Malfoy called out to him.

"Potter," Harry paused and then turned out of politeness, he told himself. "Thanks."

Harry stared at him, and then seemed to realize what he had been doing and then nodded. "Err... yeah. Night, Malfoy."

"Goodnight, Potter."

* * *

He  _so_  needed to inform Hermione of this new development. He wouldn't tell Ron, for obvious reasons; one of them being the blatant disgust the boy would display if Harry so much as mentioned Malfoy in their conversation.

He was relieved when Hermione had actually stopped by his dorm to greet him the next morning. Technically, she wasn't there for him, rather, but because she had a bit of a headache from all the time she spent writing her stories and required some medicine from Madam Pomfrey because the Hospital Wing was also on the third floor.

Hermione, already feeling chipper, greeted Harry just in time as he stepped past Sir Jean and into the corridor.

"Goodbye, Harry! See you later!" came the disembodied voice of Sir Jean as they made to leave. Seconds later, Sir Jean moved aside  _again_  and Malfoy stepped through, looking determined. He stopped, however, when Harry and Hermione turned to look at him and all the colour drained from his face.

"G-good morning, Potter," he stumbled on his words, glancing frantically between Hermione and Harry, before pushing past the both of them and hurrying away to get to the Great Hall. Hermione raised a brow at Malfoy's retreating back before she turned her inquisitive gaze upon Harry.

"What was that all about?" she asked as they began to make their way to breakfast. Harry quickly explained what had happened the night before and Hermione's eyes grew as wide as saucers.

"Woo  _Ron_?" she exclaimed comically, just as they stepped through the doors that lead into the Great Hall. Harry gave her a panicked but warning look and held his hand up to his mouth in a gesture of 'shh'. Getting the hint, she nodded and searched the hall for something. Harry followed her gaze and realized that she was looking for Malfoy. "Never would have thought, Harry, never would have thought."

Harry decided to keep the knowledge about Malfoy apparently liking Hermione to himself.

The two of them made their way to the Gryffindor table, where Ron had made room for them and recommended the new Lucky Charms cereal to Hermione, who already  _knew_  what Lucky Charms were.

Harry glanced over to the Slytherin table,  _just_  to see, he told himself, and almost laughed when he saw Malfoy shovelling the Muggle cereal into his mouth. Surprises never end, do they?

"So are you going to help him?" Hermione murmured under her breath to Harry as she spread some jam on her toast. Harry supposed that she must have been trying to keep Ron from listening in, but when he answered 'yes', Ron asked them who Harry planned on helping.

"Malfoy," Harry responded automatically, before realizing the error. Ron nearly jumped out of his seat in rage.

" _MALFOY?_ " he exclaimed, much to Harry's embarrassment. Harry quickly pulled him down and hissed for him to shut up.

"He and I had an agreement of sorts," he whispered. It wasn't quite lying, but it was the truth sort of, right? "Kind of an 'I scratch your back, you scratch mine' kind of thing. If I help him with a few of his duties, he'll help me out with mine and I'll be allowed to invite the two of you over, but only if Malfoy agrees." Okay, so the start of that had been a lie, but it wasn't like Ron was going to know any better anyway.

Ron calmed down and nodded furiously, going back to his breakfast. "So what's this thing you're helping him out with?" he asked with his mouth full, much to Hermione's disgust, when food began to fly from Ron's mouth.

"Ron, don't talk with your mouth full. Or with any food, for that matter," Hermione chided as she wiped a bit of mushy cereal from her wrist before flicking it back at the redhead.

"Just some duties, that's all. Don't worry too much about it. Trust me, I'll know if I'm being ripped off, and if I do, I'll treat him in the exact same way. So relax," he assured Ron, who seemed slightly unconvinced, but resumed eating nonetheless.

Whoever came up with the saying 'ignorance is bliss' was a bloody genius. The less Ron knew, the better. Harry just had to quash the guilt he felt lurching in his stomach when he realized that Ron had to be involved with Malfoy  _somehow._  Ron would never forgive him if he realized what was going on.

* * *

"So what do you like?" Malfoy asked nonchalantly, out of the blue, mind you, when they were in the middle of their homework. Harry glanced backwards and to the side to see Malfoy, still with his head down as he scratched something out on his parchment and wrote something over it.

"Why do you want to know?" Harry mumbled, feeling his cheeks redden. The scratching stopped and Harry wondered for a moment if Malfoy was making up some excuse. Then the blond spoke.

"I don't mean to offend," he began and Harry scoffed. Right. Malfoy not meaning to offend? Never! "But I want to know what you and Ron have in common so I can know what he sees in you as a best friend."

"I thought that you wanted to win him over, not take over my role," Harry retorted, this time shifting his seat around so that he was facing Malfoy. "I don't get you, Malfoy."

"I just want to know what Ron likes in his friends, that's all," Malfoy bit back defensively, his eyes guarded. Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but didn't say anything for a full minute. In that minute, he took the time to study Malfoy's face, to see if any part of the façade would betray him at any given moment. Nothing slipped.

"Well, he likes people who are friendly and he hates gits," Harry replied wryly, his lip twisting into a smirk. Malfoy looked amused, but then put on an irritated expression.

" _Potter_..."

"Right, right. Well, that's  _true_  you know. I don't want to rain on your parade, Malfoy, but he doesn't exactly  _like_  you. I mentioned you name today and he flipped," Harry informed him and then turned back to his homework as he did so. Malfoy fell silent.

"Why were you talking about me?" he asked, sounding curious. Harry oozed fake, saccharine sweetness in his smile.

"That's for me to know," Harry quipped as he penned a few more sentences onto the parchment. "I'm going to sleep. Goodnight, Malfoy."

"Wait, Potter!"

"Good _night,_ Malfoy," Harry stressed as he gathered his homework and headed back to his room to finish it off there. So Malfoy thought that he could scheme... well then, so could Harry.

* * *

"This upcoming Saturday is a Hogsmeade weekend," Colin chirped as their group sat in a circle in the common room. Harry sat with one of his legs folded in one chair with Hermione leaning on one side and Ron against his other leg. Ginny was sitting across from them with a crossword in her lap, her tongue poking out adorably as she wrote down another answer.

"We should all go out," Seamus added, to Ginny's right, as he stretched and accidentally knocked Dean on the forehead. "Oops, sorry, mate."

Dean shrugged and then turned to the Trio. "I agree. With the rush of seventh year and Harry being Head Boy and all, we haven't exactly had a chance to hang out together. All of us should go. What about you, Neville?"

The boy looked up from his position on Ginny's left, where he had his knees drawn up to his chest. He looked extremely tired, having just come back from yet another detention with Snape. Briefly, Harry wondered if Snape had come onto Neville like he had done during his own detention. He shuddered visibly, but no one paid him any heed.

"Yeah," Neville nodded and promptly yawned. "I'll come."

"So it's settled then," Harry spoke up and nudged Ron with his foot. "Us three, Dean, Seamus, Ginny, Neville and Colin. Are we missing anyone?"

"We should invite Luna to come along," Hermione reminded everyone of the rather eccentric Ravenclaw who had managed to make her way into their friendship group despite being in another House.

"And Luna," Harry nodded, shifting so that the foot under him (which had grown numb) was resting behind Ron. There was a moment of silence before Hermione leaned back and nudged Harry.

"Don't you have a meeting with Professor McGonagall?" she asked, raising a brow and then nodded to Colin and Ginny. "You two as well."

Colin let out a small 'meep' of shock and then scrambled up to Harry as Ginny rose gracefully from her seat. "C'mon Harry! Don't want to be late!" The mousy haired boy was rather small, so it surprised Harry when he was pulled out of his chair with strength.

Colin had practically dragged Harry out of the portrait hole, Ginny following calmly behind; everybody in their group laughed with amusement. It wasn't the first time that Harry, Colin and Ginny had forgotten their daily meetings and it was always Hermione that had to remind them. Harry squeezed Colin's hand as a way of telling him not to be so over-excited – honestly, you could give the boy a chocolate and he'd be running all over the place as a way of him saying thank you. Then again, chocolate had  _sugar_  in it and Harry didn't want to run the risk of an extremely long 'thank you' from Colin Creevey.

Colin calmed a bit and they strode into the designated meeting place, completely unaware that they were still holding hands. Harry's eyes met Malfoy's, who looked rather amused when his gaze slipped lower. Harry blushed and then realized that Malfoy wasn't looking  _down there_  but at his hand.

Harry dropped Colin's hand as if he had been burned, then moved closer to Ginny. Malfoy's eyes laughed at him before sliding back to the paperwork in front of him.

"Good to see that my Gryffindors can make it on time," McGonagall said wryly. Well, they  _were_  on time, but just a little later than everyone else.  _Why_  were they all early anyway? "There are a few things that need to be brought up and taken care of. First off, I would like to congratulate the team for all your hard work these past few weeks. I know the first few months of the school year can be especially tiring. Trust me,  _I_  would know."

To Harry's surprise, nearly everyone's lips twitched into a smile at McGonagall's little joke – all except for Malfoy, of course, who merely sneered. Go figure. Killjoy.

"Now, onto more serious matters. The first half of this meeting will be spent discussing your opinions and what you found difficult, or what needs improvement, about your current duties, so that we can work on such things for future years," McGonagall explained as she gazed about the classroom with a stern eye. "The second half will be slightly..." the Gryffindor Head of House trailed off, looking a little hesitant "...serious. Some things have come to the attention of the staff and we feel that we must inform you readily of the situation before things get out of hand."

Harry wasn't even aware of there  _being_  a situation that was spreading amongst the students. He sure as hell hadn't heard anything that was circulating around the student body...

Unless they were purposely keeping it from him because he was the Head Boy. Harry's eyebrows furrowed together. No... then why would the teachers have picked up on it? A student, which was what Harry was, surely would have realized something before the teachers did... right?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Right. Back on track. He was next to speak up anyway. After talking for about five or so minutes about how he felt about the Head Boy position (and really, it wasn't hard for Harry to speak about it, based on the sole fact that there were many aspects that needed to be spoken for), he passed the so-called 'conch', which was actually just a transfigured pen, to Malfoy, who sat beside him. This situation kind of reminded him of  _Lord of the Flies_ , a Muggle book that Dudley had decided he wasn't interested in reading, and chucked it at Harry for good measure.

When Malfoy was done speaking, more so about how he disliked the system ( _especially_  the shared dormitory) and the vast room for improvement that was left, Professor McGonagall vanished the pseudo conch and stood.

"Thank you, all of you, for sharing your thoughts and  _opinions_ ," she stressed the word as her weary eyes passed over a smug-looking Malfoy. "But now to the more serious side of things. I'll get straight to the point."

The group of students around Harry shifted rather uncomfortably. Of course some of them  _must_  know – there was no way that their friends would have hidden it from them.

"When you all signed the contracts, stating your commitment towards your duties and whatnot, you must have been aware of the requirements it entailed," Professor McGonagall held each person's gaze for a few moments while she spoke, lingering momentarily on Harry, before continuing, "However, there is a rather...  _new_  progression around the school that we must add to a new contract."

McGonagall waved her wand and two different parchments appeared – one for the prefects and the other for the Head Boys.

"You will only need to sign your names where necessary. What a few professors have noticed," Harry took in the fact that the usually strict and cool McGonagall had gone an unusual shade of pink, "is that the older students are coercing other students, especially the younger ones, into...  _sexual_  activities. It is most troublesome indeed. As the representatives of the older students and of the Hogwarts body as a whole," she nodded towards Harry and Malfoy, "we need you to be role models and help get the situation under wraps."

"Do you want us to go around proclaiming that we're virgins and that sex is nasty and abstinence is the greatest thing next to Bertie Bots™ Every Flavour Beans?" the sixth year Slytherin male snorted, crossing his arms over his chest as he raised a brow.

Professor McGonagall's face lost the pink tint and she took on a stern look, but her lip twitched in amusement. "Exactly that, Mr. Hollingsworth. If you wish to stay on as Prefects and Head Boys, you will need to sign to the new contract."

The Slytherin flushed and sunk into his seat, looking rather put out. Professor McGonagall didn't duplicate the sheets, merely handed it between the sixteen Prefects and the other, between Harry and Malfoy.

Malfoy sneered at Harry and snatched up the quill first before reading the parchment. Harry felt rather irritated, so he decided that he'd read over Malfoy's shoulder in order to save time. As Harry scooted closer to the Slytherin, he failed to notice the way that Malfoy's body had tensed, and said boy had stopped reading the new contract. Harry's lips mouthed out whatever he was reading, completely unaware of the fact that Malfoy was leaning into his body.

Harry didn't notice at all, and when Malfoy was done, he signed it with flourish. To his pleasant surprise, everyone else had signed it as well, including the Slytherin sixth year.

McGonagall surveyed the room then gave everyone a tight-lipped smile. "I trust that all of you will live up to expectations, as you have done thus far. Good luck and good day to you all."

The door swung open by itself and everyone filed out, two at a time. Colin and Ginny were chattering to each other about what they could do to put a stop to the 'sexual madness'. Inwardly, Harry scoffed. As if  _they_ would bother putting a stop to it. They might as well  _try_  to look like they were doing something but honestly,  _who_  in Hogwarts, aside from the staff, would try to separate a bunch of horny teens?

He registered the fact that there were two male Hufflepuffs practically sucking their faces off behind one of the larger tapestries. He sighed. It was always the quiet ones, wasn't it?

* * *

"Malfoy," Harry greeted the blond as he entered their common room with a sigh. The blond in question glanced up from the book he was reading and grunted. Harry rolled his eyes and retreated to his room to get changed. Stupid children.

Part of him wanted to yell at  _himself_  for being so bloody reckless at night. He'd had to chase and round up a group of four Slytherin second years, who decided it would be bloody well  _funny_  to have The Boy Who Lived chase after them in the dark corridors of Hogwarts.

What those second year Slytherins didn't expect was that there were other Prefects scouring the halls nearby and they'd all been inevitably caught, with a rather hefty deduction of one-hundred points from Slytherin – twenty points from each student for being out, and a further five from each for running away when they knew they'd been caught.

They'd ended up chasing the god forsaken students for about half an hour, without stopping, and now Harry very much would have favoured a shower. He greatly disliked the thought about having to go all the way to the Fifth Floor just to have a bath. But he really stunk. The sweat coated him liberally and he had noticed the way that Malfoy's nose scrunched up when Harry had entered.

Not that he cared. He sighed as he reached his door. "Oh stuff and bother," he mumbled to himself as he reached for the doorknob.

"If it's a bath you want, it's a bath you'll get," came a giggling voice from somewhere to Harry's left. He spun around, wand already drawn and prepared to hex anyone or  _thing_  that he could see. To his surprise, the usually sleeping boy on the haystack was awake and was sitting atop another bundle of hay.

Harry's eyebrows marred together. He looked rather familiar...

"Little Boy Blue, at your service," the country bumpkin giggled again with a rather flirtatious wink in Harry's direction. Harry felt his cheeks flush and it proceeded to reach his neck as well. "Aren't you just the cute 'un?"

"Um... what you said about the bath earlier...?" Harry trailed off, hoping that... Boy Blue? would take the rather generous hint. He had impossibly blue eyes which were slightly hidden by his mop of sandy, blond hair and a cowboy hat which looked precariously close to falling off his head. The boy was decked in nothing but muddy overalls and even muddier boots, showing off plenty of tanned skin.

Blue winked at him and got up off the haystack, ushering Harry closer. "I'll tell you the password on one condition, cutie."

Harry sighed. "What?"

"Gimme a kiss and maybe I'll tell," Blue winked and giggled again. Harry felt his cheeks grow warm, and he felt ridiculously stupid for doing this but he leaned forwards anyways with his lips puckered and shyly pressed them against Blue's face. He worried that he might have engulfed all of Blue's head, but the bumpkin didn't seem to mind. He tittered rather happily afterwards, then demanded another one.

Sighing, Harry indulged him. "What the  _bloody_  hell are you doing, Potter?"

Well shite. This was awkward.

He turned around quickly, but it all felt like everything was going in slow motion. Behind him, Blue giggled loudly in his cute little country accent and waved hello to Malfoy.

"Potter, you have just reached a new level of  _weird_  and  _stupid_. Next thing you know, you'll be shagging suits of armour wherever you go. Stop taking advantage of innocuous portraits!" Malfoy sneered with disgust, his arms folded across his chest. Harry opened his mouth to retort when Blue began to call him back.

"Harry, Harry! Come here!" Sparing Malfoy a weary glance, Harry leaned over to the portrait, where Blue had his hands cupped around his mouth as if he were about to tell a secret. Blue's voice dropped considerably lower when he uttered, "Horny Haystacks."

Harry reeled backwards in shock. " _What?_  I thought you were Little Boy Blue! Aren't you meant to be part of some children's nursery rhyme or something?"

To his surprise, Blue rolled his cerulean eyes and grinned. "Weeeelll... that's what the muggles think. But really Harry, you can't seriously expect me to believe that you have no idea what my song goes on about."

Behind him, Malfoy snorted. Obviously, he knew the wizarding meaning behind whatever Blue was implying.

"Are you going to tell me?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. If he was being tricked into kissing a goddamn portrait, only to have Malfoy catch him, he wasn't going to be happy.

"Well... think about it," Blue smiled shyly and looked up at Harry from beneath his long eyelashes and uneven fringe. It was kind of endearing. Then he began to sing in a dulcet voice, "Little Boy Blue  ** _come blow_** _your_ ** _horn_**..."

Harry didn't even need to hear the rest and quickly uttered, "Horny Haystacks!" causing Blue to grin and the portrait to open up. The remaining wall beneath the portrait sunk down into the floor and Harry was faced with a short, dimly lit corridor. From the looks of where he was standing, this corridor would eventually take him to a bathroom, most likely the Prefects', and the portrait of the mermaid was what led back to his dorms.

Harry stepped into the corridor and turned around in time to see Malfoy shake his head and lock himself in his own private room. He turned back to the corridor and followed the short steps until he reached a fork that revealed two doors. The door on the right had a plaque that stated 'Prefect's Bathroom', but the one on the left was blank. Happy to know that he had full usage of it without having to be guilty of being out after hours, Harry ran to the right door and yanked it open.

Well... not that he ever  _was_  guilty, in the first place. He turned on a few of the many jewelled faucets, the ones that he knew he liked from past experiences, and waited as the swimming pool-shaped bath filled with water, bubbles and steam. He turned them off as soon as he was done and began to shuck off his clothes. He kept an eye on the door before reaching into his wand and bolted the door shut from there.

Once all was done and ready, he slipped himself slowly into the water-filled bath and sat down on a part of the ledge that jutted out around the bath, serving as a sort of seat. He rubbed his skin beneath the water, cursing that he hadn't thought to bring a body scrub with him.

Oh well – no use crying over spilt milk. He dunked his head into the warm, but bordering on hot, water and held his breath as he scrubbed his scalp. He resurfaced for air, only to let out a rather embarrassing scream when he came face to ectoplasm face with Moaning Myrtle.

"Hullo Harry," the ghost greeted him cheerfully, with her giggling cackle. "I haven't seen you around in a while..."

Harry swallowed back a nervous retort and grabbed a few of the many bubbles surrounding him and strategically placed them around his body.

"You're not getting...  _shy_... are you, Harry?" she giggled again and brought her face closer. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood on end when he felt the familiar chill on his body, indicative of the fact that there was a ghost touching him.

"Myrtle... I don't mean to be rude or anything, but do you think you could... I don't know, leave, or at least turn away while I finish up?" Harry stammered, his cheeks flushing red. Myrtle pouted, but she'd spent many a time with Harry, merely talking either in the Prefect's bathroom or Myrtle's, to know that she had to listen. Otherwise, Harry would avoid her like the plague, and she definitely didn't want that.

"Spoilsport," she grumbled before floating off into one of the drains. Harry stared as her body got sucked into the pipe and felt a shiver go down his spine when he thought of travelling through Hogwarts' sewerage system. That, surely, could  _not_  be pleasant.

He finished up his bath and headed back to the dorm. The portrait of the mermaid smiled down upon him as he uttered the password and then shifted aside so that Harry could step through, back into the familiar room.

"Have a good one?" came Blue's voice from behind him. Harry turned and gave the boy a smile.

"Yes, thanks."

"Good night,  _Harry_ ," Blue's voice dropped to a seductively low purr and Harry blinked before giving him a light chuckle.

"Good night."

Merlin. A portrait! Flirting with him! It wasn't until he'd closed and locked his door and tucked himself into bed, that he allowed a loud bark of laugher to leave him. Some things were just too funny to ignore.


	6. Malfoy Implemented

_Last time:_

"Good night,  _Harry_ ," Blue's voice dropped to a seductively low purr and Harry blinked before giving him a light chuckle.

"Good night."

Merlin. A portrait! Flirting with him! It wasn't until he'd closed and locked his door and tucked himself into bed, that he allowed a loud bark of laugher to leave him. Some things were just too funny to ignore.

* * *

Harry awoke the next Saturday morning after another week of nightly torture, a single detention (he'd been wondering when Professor McGonagall was going to bring that up...) from Snape, and even more piles of homework that were issued from every teacher 'to prepare them for their N.E.W.T. exams'. The detention that he had served with the Potions Master was, thankfully, normal on every level and the man hadn't so much as spared a glance in Harry's direction once the work had commenced.

Hermione was in heaven with the workload – a rather  _stressed_  version of heaven, but a heaven nonetheless. Harry and Ron... well, not so much. He fumbled around on his bedside table for his glasses and slipped them on, scrunching his nose in distaste when his vision was slightly impaired by the numerous amounts of finger smudges on the lens. He got out of bed, regardless, and cleaned them on a soft cloth before changing from his pajamas to his usual robes.

"Hey Blue, where does the left door lead to?" Harry asked when he'd slipped his shoes on and laced them up. Blue blinked owlishly at Harry from his position on the haystack and gave him a look.

"You mean you didn't check? That must mean you used the Prefects' Bathroom," Blue mused, more to himself than to Harry. At the clearing of Harry's throat, Blue's attention snapped back to the other wizard. "Yes well, the door on the left leads to your _private_  bathroom. Mind, it's not as big as the Prefects' one, but it does have a nice little Jacuzzi, shower, sink and toilet, in a separate cubicle, of course," he added hastily. Harry blinked then thanked Blue and ran back to his room before heading off to their private bathroom to brush his teeth.

To his surprise, Malfoy was already there, brushing his teeth in front of the mirror. When Harry came into view, Malfoy sneered – an amazing feat, considering he had foam around his lips and a toothbrush lodged in his mouth. Harry waited patiently until Malfoy was done (he seemed to be taking his damn time) and edged around the blond when Malfoy left.

He allowed himself to laugh loudly when he saw all the beauty and care products that were stacked up neatly on one side of the vanity table.  _Wow_. If only Ron and Hermione could have seen this...

He jumped when Malfoy returned and barked, "If you so much as  _breathe_  a word to anyone about my stuff, I'll flush you down the damn toilet."

Thinking back to Moaning Myrtle the night before, Harry couldn't help but laugh yet again. Malfoy scowled then stormed out.

Breakfast was the same, as usual, on the Gryffindor table. They ate, they talked, they argued (sometimes) and got into food fights (more often than they argued, since half of them began because of arguments and the other half came as a result of boredom). Such things only made the Slytherin table sneer at them in disgust.

Harry felt himself searching for Malfoy on the Slytherin table. He hadn't made any moves on Ron whatsoever. He was almost anxious to know when the blond would start, so that he could be there to laugh at him when all Malfoy's plans went to rot. He scanned down the length of the table and found Malfoy seated a bit further away than he usually was, seated between the dark-skinned Blaise Zabini, and the pug-faced Pansy Parkinson.

Malfoy didn't look up from his breakfast, but looked extremely pensive while he ate. Harry watched him a while longer until Zabini glanced up and nudged Malfoy. Before the blond could even react, Harry had turned the other way and snatched Seamus away from Dean, and into a healthy debate about Quidditch.

* * *

"Have we got everyone?" Hermione asked as she looked over their group again. It was the day they'd be going out to Hogsmeade and everyone was excited for the first trip together.

Harry glanced around and noticed that Malfoy wasn't there. A sudden idea came to mind. "Hold on, Hermione. I think I left my money in my trunk..." Harry told her before dashing away. No one said anything when they had clearly heard the money jingling in his robes.

"Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed as soon as he had burst through the entranceway. The aforementioned Slytherin glanced up from his rather engrossed conversation with one Blaise Zabini and Harry had the decency to blush.

"What's going on?" Zabini drawled, folding his arms over his chest and crossing his legs. He sniffed. "Isn't it rude to interrupt a conversation, Potter?"

"I wasn't aware you were having one. What are you doing here, anyway?" Harry snapped before he heard Malfoy clear his throat. The blond looked at him expectantly.

"I invited him. You were out. You wanted to talk to me?" Malfoy asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry nodded and opened his mouth, before he thought better of it and shut it. His eyes lingered on Zabini.

"Do... do ya think we can talk somewhere a little bit more...  _private_ , Malfoy?" Harry asked hesitantly as the other Slytherin sneered at Harry. He didn't seem to have the venom that Malfoy extruded, but it was a sneer without a doubt.

"Whatever you can say to me, you can say in front of Blaise," Malfoy told him smugly. Harry felt a slight pike of anger before he squashed it down. Oh, he was going to love this.

"It's about your plan to woo Ron," he said simply, watching the range of reactions that flitted through Malfoy's face. Blank at first, then realisation, then horror, shock, embarrassment and last, but certainly not least, anger.

"Potter!" Malfoy spared Zabini a warning glance. Obviously he'd not disclosed the finer points of his daily life to his best friend. He grabbed Harry by the elbow and dragged him out into the corridor. Sir Jean wisely remained quiet. "What the  _hell_ , Potter?! Why'd you bring  _that_  up?"

Harry stared defiantly up at Malfoy, but with a cool expression, his arms folded in his chest. "You said that whatever I had to say to you could be said in front of Zabini as well. Did you not?"

Malfoy seemed to realize his own error and then snarled at Harry. "So  _what_  do you want?!"

"Well, since you asked for my help, I thought you might like to know that my group is heading out to Hogsmeade today. It's your chance to do something nice for Ron," Harry couldn't help himself and flashed Malfoy a flirty wink. Malfoy's eyes narrowed and Harry knew that there was a debate going on in that Slytherin mind of his.

" _Why_  on earth should I listen to you?" Malfoy stated in his calmest voice, watching Harry carefully. The raven-haired boy merely shrugged.

" _You_  came to  _me_  for help, not the other way around. If you're going to be an arrogant, self-centred prick, then fine. Good day, Malfoy," Harry snapped before whirling around and stalking down the corridor. Behind him he could hear Malfoy utter the password to Sir Jean, and then the tell-tale sound of the flagstones shifting against each other as the armour moved aside.

When he'd arrived at the Entrance Hall again, everyone was preparing to leave. He hurried to catch up to his friends and together, they all set off for their Hogsmeade trip.

* * *

"Have you noticed anything  _strange_  about Malfoy lately?" Hermione asked as she swirled her plastic spoon around her sundae absentmindedly. Everyone else was talking amongst themselves, leaving the trio to talk with each other. Ron blanched at the mention of the other wizard's name.

Harry, still irritated by the fact that Malfoy was being such a git, bit harshly into his ice-cream and grimaced when the cold made his teeth hurt, and the plastic spoon had snapped from the force. Hermione rolled her eyes and repaired it without as much as a tap of her wand.

"What do you mean  _strange about Malfoy_?" Ron spoke up as he tucked into his monstrosity of a dessert. Harry felt his stomach flip from the sight of all the calories and future tooth decay. Hermione had grimaced – her parents were dentists, after all."Isn't he  _always_ queer? Oh, sorry, mate," Ron apologized when Harry shot him a meaningful look. Then Ron began to speak up again, no doubt to start a rant about how much he hated Malfoy.

Five minutes later, the faint jingle of the ice-cream parlour's door rang. Harry couldn't help himself and glanced up to see a familiar blond walk into the shop.

"Speak of the devil," he hissed under his breath, causing Ron to not-so-subtly stare at the Slytherin. Zabini followed Malfoy after a few seconds. They seated themselves in a quiet corner and made their orders via the magic menus.

Now that Harry thought about it, Malfoy  _was_  acting weird. He needed time to think about this, but from what he could gather, Malfoy's head was a mess.

First there had been all those  _lustful_  looks at Hermione on the Hogwarts Express, and he seemed to be everywhere they went – he was always just around the corner and it left Harry a little bit unsettled.

There was also that night outside of Gryffindor Tower, when he'd caught Malfoy whisper that he had loved  _her_ , so no doubt it was a girl. Harry wasn't sure if the 'her' being mentioned was Hermione, since the last he could remember of Malfoy's insults to his best friend ranged from 'filth' to the ever constant 'Mudblood'.

But then he'd gone and actually  _asked_  Harry for help on how to woo  _Ron_. Who was a  _boy_. Harry stared hard at his sundae, as if he were expecting it to disappear at any second now, or morph into something scary, like what boggarts did.

He had sought out Harry's knowledge about what Ron liked. It just didn't make sense. He frowned. He really needed to discuss this with someone, but it couldn't be Hermione  _or_  Ron, since they were both involved. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank GOD that Malfoy was expressing no apparent interest in him. He'd sooner feed himself to the Giant Squid than have Malfoy shower him with loving affection. The thought seemed to burn his brain, so he stood up and claimed he needed to go for a walk to clear his thoughts. Ron volunteered to come with him.

* * *

Blaise Zabini was not an idiot. He could see a Slytherinesque plan when he saw one, from  _miles_  away. And right now, there were two going on. One, his dark eyes regarded Harry Potter as the boy stood and left, the redheaded weasel-sidekick following suit.

And two, he brought his eyes over to the other boy in front of him, who was staring at his gradually melting ice-cream.

"Oh for the love of Salazar, will you just  _eat_  already?" Blaise sighed as he ran a hand through his gelled hair in frustration. He wasn't blind either. He had  _definitely_  noticed the strange infatuation that Draco had with the Mudblood, but the weasel, of all people? What was the world coming to? He had better be on guard, lest the Malfoy heir start spurting out love sonnets for the Golden Boy.

"You didn't have to come," Draco snapped bitingly, already on the edge of his seat, and literally too. "I didn't ask for your company."

"For one, Draco, there is no way that I'm letting you go about following filthy Gryffindors when you have time to do other things," Blaise began airily, pinning his dark gaze on his best friend. "Two, it is extremely rude to invite someone over only to leave their company in favour of some wild goose chase."

"I told you to go back to the dorms," Draco bit out and tentatively poked out the tip of his tongue to try the ice-cream. Blaise rolled his eyes. Such a drama queen.

"Since when have I listened to you?" Blaise muttered, only to hear Draco murmur under his breath, 'Since first year. Then you grew a goddamn brain.' The dark-skinned Slytherin regarded the pale one across from him with a little hint of irritation. Draco was becoming a little  _too_  much to handle.

Despite the fact that he could sense some sort of conspiracy going on, Draco had left him no details as to what went on behind closed doors and his mood swings were becoming quite unpredictable. The most prominent, which made Blaise glad to a certain extent, was Draco Malfoy's constant arrogance and temper. Although he'd rather Draco have a better disposition, at least it meant things were  _normal_.

Heck, since Draco had come out and confessed that he had feelings for the beaver-girl, as Blaise liked to secretly call her, the blond git had been completely abnormal. Blaise longed for things to back to how they were in previous years, where Draco would throw an insult whenever the 'Golden Trio' would happen to walk past, and they'd get all riled up. It also gave a good excuse for Professor Snape to deduct points from that wretched Gryffindor House.

Good for nothing wastes of space...

"Look, Scarhead and Weasel have left. This is your chance to chat up the Mudblood," Blaise teased and only laughed when Draco shot him a withering glare. Over the years, one learned to get immune to such looks, especially when one was constantly on the receiving end. Didn't seem to make much of a difference on Crabbe and Goyle, though. Those two were still as thick-headed and frightened of Draco as they'd been in their first year.

Draco cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder to see that Hermione, indeed, was without her usual male tag-alongs. But...

He scowled. The rest of those damn Gryffindors were still there.  _And_  that psycho Ravenclaw. He glanced at them, then at Blaise before smiling.

"No. No, Draco, you're on your own for this. You wanted me to leave, so I'm leaving," Blaise stood up and prepared to leave, but Draco grabbed his sleeve and pushed him back to his seat.

"No, I change my mind. You're staying. And you're going to help me."

"How?" Blaise regarded his best friend with weary eyes. Draco smiled. This wasn't good.

"With a distraction, of course!"

* * *

"Harry? Mate, are you alright?" Ron asked him as Harry began to pace the area just outside the Shrieking Shack. Harry gnawed on his bottom lip. A habit he'd had since childhood, and those ruddy Muggles still hadn't beaten it out of him.

Harry debated whether he actually _should_  shed light on the situation with Ron. And why not? If Ron was involved first hand, it would make things easier, wouldn't it?

"No, I'm not alright. Malfoy's planning something and I don't like it," Harry sighed as he sat down on the ground, staring wistfully at the shabby shack beyond the wire fence. He heard Ron grunt and then occupy the ground beside him. "You won't like it," he added for good measure.

Ron smiled, but it was rather strained, "Try me, mate."

"He's going to woo you."

To say that silence was bliss had never been so wrong. This was the worst silence that Harry had come across in his entire seventeen, pathetic years of existence. Surprisingly, Ron didn't yell.

"Come again? I think I heard you wrong..." his voice trailed off and Harry could hear the undertones of dread seeping into his voice. He didn't even have to  _look_  at Ron to see the colour already draining out of his face.

He was in denial. Harry sighed and repeated it, and rightfully braced himself for the explosion that was to come.

"Malfoy?! Woo  _me_?!" At first, Ron had burst out into hysterical bouts of laughter, stemmed from the sole fact that the thought of Malfoy wooing  _anyone_  would have been downright ridiculous yet frightening at the same time. The laughter stopped, abruptly, when Ron saw Harry's grim expression. "Mate... you're not joking, are you?"

"Not about this, Ron. I wish I was..." Harry sighed as he ran a hand frantically through the already messy nest of hair atop his head. Ron's mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish. It was rather comical really, since no sound left the flabbergasted boy's mouth.

"I-... you-... me-... woo-...  _Malfoy_?" Ron's voice broke, something which Harry hadn't heard since their fifth year, when they were at the Department of Mysteries, in the Ministry of Magic. Harry nodded grimly and tried to flash Ron a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"Don't get too serious about it though. I've got some suspicions about this entire thing. It... it just doesn't click. Doesn't make sense!" Harry mumbled, more to himself than to Ron, then folded his arms around his knees.

"What doesn't make sense? Harry, make sense!" Ron squeaked again, his face completely pale. Harry sighed. Looked like he had some explaining to do...

* * *

Draco grumbled as he escaped from the store with his clothes completely unsinged and, thankfully, still intact.

Others weren't so lucky and he couldn't help but laugh maliciously at the group of Gryffindors who ran out of the ice-cream parlour, eyes wide and wild with shock, gasping for air and waving the space around their heads with their hands in an attempt to rid themselves of the cloud of unfurling, black smoke. The Ravenclaw looked completely unperturbed and began to rattle off about bad mannered faeries who liked to use magical pyrotechnics for  _fun_.

He laughed at her too, since she was so completely wrong. It was all Blaise Zabini. Speaking of which, the boy had somehow managed to disappear. He'd have to thank him later. The distraction had been slightly over the top, but nevertheless, Hermione was leaning up against the wall opposite to the smog-laden ice-cream parlour, trying to catch her breath and gain her bearings.

"Granger," Draco greeted her cordially as he sidled up beside her as casually as possible. Hermione didn't seem to mind – she was too busy casting cleaning charms on herself to worry about the Slytherin beside her. "Allow me."

Perhaps it was on instinct, but Hermione had flinched when Draco had raised his wand and held her own up to his face. "No thanks. I'm quite capable of doing it on my own. Regardless, it was a thoughtful gesture."

She cleaned up rather nicely and Draco allowed his eyes to roam over her body appreciatively. Indeed, the once shy bookworm had grown over the past years, and seemed to have matured the most over the summer holidays. He stood a good two or three heads taller than her, making him the same height as Weasel and a head taller than Potter.

"How are you?" he asked quietly, watching as she bent over to inspect the hems of her robes. He averted his eyes so that temptation wouldn't allow him to stare at her arse. It was a cute one, that.

She glanced up in surprise, her bushy hair falling around her face, slightly singed and sticking up at random. "Err... good, thanks. You?"

"Fine," Draco replied, curling his lip in what was supposed to be a smile, but his instinct to smirk was so imbedded in him that he couldn't  _not_  smirk. Regardless, it seemed to have no effect on Hermione whatsoever. He urged his brain to think faster, to think of another topic that they could talk about that they had in common. Thinking of the 'help' that he'd implored from Potter, he said the first thing that came to mind. "Do you enjoy Quidditch?"

Hermione gave him a blank look and raised a brow. "I don't particularly care for the sport. It's a rather rough game and I'd rather not have Harry and Ron be out there on the field, but they love it, so I'm not stopping them. It's a rather brute sport, Quidditch is..."

Draco had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't  _want_  to  _bloody_  hear about Weaselbee and Scarhead! He wanted Hermione to just leave them OUT of any future conversations that they'd hopefully be having.

And curse his luck! Speaking of Potter and Weasley, the two boys appeared, wands drawn like the floundering, primitive reprobates that they were. They must have seen the smoke and acted quickly.

Draco couldn't remember a time when he'd seen Potter's face, or Weasley's for that matter, looking so completely outraged and furious. He felt a slight twinge in his gut when Potter shot him a disgusted glare, as if to say 'I know what you did, you dirty, underhanded bastard'.

Hermione greeted her friends and began to recount what had happened while they were gone.

Oh well... at least he'd managed to talk to her. He sighed, turned on his heel and walked away. Maybe there would be more chances to talk with her in the future.

* * *

"Damn bastard," Ron hissed after Malfoy's retreating back before turning to inspect Hermione for any possible injuries. Harry smiled at his best friend's worry for the girl. It was really rather sweet. After Hermione insisted that she was fine, and that Malfoy hadn't violated or touched her in any way (Ron still looked dubious), they set off back to Hogwarts with the rest of the shocked group in tow.

Harry was thankful that Ron kept his tongue when Malfoy was around. He didn't want the redhead to accidentally reveal what Harry had surmised from the looks that Malfoy had given their female friend. Ron had been utterly disgusted with the Slytherin on a whole new level, nonetheless, when Harry had insisted that he had a plan to get revenge on Malfoy for all the things he'd done wrong in the past, Ron decided to agree and play along.

Harry's plan was to work as a double agent, or spy of sorts, between Malfoy's plan and his own. He would go to Malfoy and reveal some information that Ron allowed, then when Malfoy made his attempts, Ron would act normal, but gradually become accepting of the blond git.

But there was the 'Hermione factor' involved. Just  _how_  involved  _was_  Hermione going to be, at the end of all this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rice-Ball247: Indeedy. Anyway, for those of you who are confused about the entire 'Malfoy wooing Ron' scenario, don't worry, the nightmare will be over soon. Malfoy has a reason (and it may or may not be a good reason...). I've reread the upcoming chapters and realized how immature they sound so again, please be patient with me, as I want to see if I can fix them up a bit.


	7. Harry’s Fictitious Sexcapades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND A REALLY QUICK NOTE: This is pretty much a filler chapter. Ignore what I dub the 'stupid moments' (or the unrealistic-ness of it). Really, they were written for me to have a good laugh at the characters. Also, there will be a slight progression in a new pairing (don't freak out about it, you'll see what I mean later). As for the Snarry Fanfiction, it is merely a running jibe I have throughout the fic, with an occasional-
> 
> Okay, on with the fic.

_Last time:_

 

Harry's plan was to work as a double agent, or spy of sorts, between Malfoy's plan and his own. He would go to Malfoy and reveal some information that Ron allowed, then when Malfoy made his attempts, Ron would act normal, but gradually become accepting of the blond git.

But there was the 'Hermione factor' involved. Just  _how_  involved  _was_  Hermione going to be, at the end of all this?

* * *

It seemed like a brilliant idea to Harry. This way, they'd be getting back at Malfoy and humiliating him on an entirely new level. It was better than the bouncing ferret that Moody had pulled off three years prior.

Hermione, who had already heard of Malfoy's attempts to woo Ron, scolded the both of them for being so malicious in their thoughts. Ron had commented on how 'Slytherin' Harry was, and Hermione had pointed out that it just made the situation seem a lot worse.

"Don't stoop down to their level, Harry. I thought you wanted to improve inter-house relationships?" Hermione asked as she bit on the plume of her quill and then penned down another sentence of her fanfiction.

"When Malfoy's dead and gone," Ron snorted as he patted Harry on the back. "Don't worry about it, mate. He deserves every bit of humiliation that he gets."

Harry nodded, but he was still lost within his thoughts. What if things didn't turn out right? What if it all went down the drain? Or worse, what if he got found out and Malfoy made his life even more hellish than possible? The worst that could possibly happen would be expulsion for... for... no. He probably wouldn't get expelled. Would he?

"Harry stop that, or you'll burst your lip," Hermione slapped his knee in an attempt to get his thoughts back to where they  _should_  be, on his homework. This particular essay was one that he couldn't accomplish on his own, as independent as he'd grown to be during the last few weeks without Hermione in the dorms.

Hermione, luckily for her, had already finished  _all_  of her homework and was currently working on what she called a 'smut' fiction – and with a straight face. Harry had no idea what it meant, until he'd decided to read over Hermione's shoulder and promptly threw up (thankfully, not on Hermione).

He would NEVER, EVER look at whips and chains and handcuffs and SNAPE the same way again. Heck, he didn't think he'd be able to look at himself in the mirror – he didn't think he'd be able to look at  _himself_  the same way again, not with the words of Hermione's newest project creating mental pictures in his mind.

And he bet that he  _didn't_  beg prettily either.

* * *

"Add the ground aconite  _slowly_ , Mr. Potter," Snape drawled out as he passed his workbench. Harry didn't smile but he at least felt a strange twinge of happiness. If he'd botched this potion, it would have resulted in a deduction of points and another detention – both of which, he was sure he could do without, especially the latter, since he had night-patrol again today. Shame Snape did as well.

And people seemed to laugh, even the Gryffindors, whenever he'd gotten himself a detention with Snape. Usually the Gryffindors would scowl at the Potions professor, but there seemed to be some sort of weird consensus amongst their class. Anyway...

He followed the instructions on the board and set the folded paper which contained his aconite aside. He then took the shredded toadstool and dropped the measured amount into the centre of the cauldron while simultaneously stirring. His arms were beginning to tire and it didn't help that the potions classroom got extremely hot when the brewing process began.

At least he knew why they were down in the dungeons. It had the perfect conditions for brewing. Any extra heat sources from any level above the dungeons would have probably affected the properties of their work. Or so Hermione had told him when Harry had complained about being in 'slimy, Slytherin territory'.

When the lesson was over and all the potions had been safely decanted into stoppered vials and left on Snape's desk (labelled with their names as usual), Harry was glad for the break he had and rushed up to his rooms to take a quick kip on the couch before Malfoy got there and decided to read. He seemed to have graduated from the plushy armchair, opting instead to occupy the entire length of the couch when he was reading.

Therefore, Harry was determined to get there first. But when he'd finally settled himself on the couch, his back turned to the door and his eyes momentarily closed, he heard the voice of Malfoy as the git stepped into the dorm, followed by the voice of Blaise Zabini.

"What is  _that_  doing there?" Zabini asked dryly, regarding Harry's figure on the couch with a critical eye. "A rather unfortunate taste you have in decor, Draco."

Malfoy scoffed. "You wish, Blaise. That thing isn't mine," he gestured to Harry on the couch.

"I'm right  _here_  you know," Harry grumbled as he sat up and rubbed his eyes from under his glasses. He glared at the two Slytherins, unaware of the pout he had on his face. Malfoy and Zabini seemed to fall silent when Harry yawned and frowned. "And what is  _he_  doing here, Malfoy? I thought that we  _both_  had to agree to have any friends in the dorms."

Malfoy seemed to snap out of whatever trance he'd been in and smirked at Harry. "Well, if you mind your own business about Blaise coming over, then I sure as hell wouldn't bat an eyelash if your friends decided to come along."

Oh right. Harry had forgotten the minor detail of Malfoy liking Hermione, and the fact that he had to be under the impression that Malfoy was trying to woo Ron. Either way, it was a lose-lose situation. He might as well...

Harry sighed in resignation, painfully aware of the fact that Zabini hadn't stopped staring at him like he was some weird piece of meat. Okay, bad analogy. He shuddered, instead.

"Blaise...? Blaise!" Malfoy called out rather unsuccessfully to his friend and the dark, penetrating gaze he had on Harry was torn away when Malfoy grabbed him by the elbow and hauled him into his private room.

Harry blinked. Talk about  _weird._

* * *

 

The two sat in awkward silence, Draco on the bed and Blaise on the chair by the desk. They glanced at each other, then scowled and looked away.

"You saw, right?" Blaise sighed as he rubbed his temples tiredly. "I can't bloody believe he could actually look so..." he trailed off. Draco hoped that the boy would  _not_  finish off that sentence. "Fuckable?"

Damn.

Draco had definitely felt a weird yet familiar twinge in his pants when, after insulting Potter, said Gryffindor sat up and glared, and rubbed his sleepy eyes with his hair all tousled, and  _pouted_! For Salazar's  _sake_!

Draco gave Blaise a weary glance and then nodded with defeat. "I saw."

"Well, since you are so adamant about having the Mudblood and Weasel, I'll be happy to steal Scarhead for myself," Blaise chuckled jokingly. Draco didn't say anything and merely glared down at his bed sheets.

There was  _no_  way that Blaise would go after Potter.

He glanced up to see Blaise Zabini, his best friend of five years, staring longingly at the bedroom door with a glazed look over his eyes.

... Would he?

* * *

"How's your plan going so far, Harry?" Ron asked as they met up at the Great Hall for lunch. Harry shrugged and piled some braised beef onto his plate, as well as a few dollops of mashed potatoes. Harry was starving, but he didn't feel like having a variety of food at the moment, so he settled for the two options.

He took a bite of his meal then swallowed and replied, "Alright. We haven't really progressed that far, since... you know, we have to wait for Malfoy to make a move first."

Ron nodded then scrunched his green-tinged face. "I can't believe I have to act all flirty with him later on..."

"Neither can I, Ron, neither can I..." Harry sighed and resigned himself to a lunch of silence when Hermione refused to glance up from her notebook. She was writing something furiously fast, then growled to herself and promptly scratched it out only seconds later.

"Trouble, 'Mione?" Ron asked through a bite of roast. Hermione glanced up, looking utterly despaired. There were slight bags under her eyes and she looked completely exhausted.

"This... this isn't working," she sighed as she set down her quill. Guiltily, Harry felt a twinge of happiness that Hermione had stopped writing her smut-fics about him and Snape. How could she even stomach the notion?! "I'm going through writer's block. I want to make Harry a bit defiant, as usual, but submissive at the same time, and I don't know how I'm going to make Snape punish him. I've already gone through every punishment there is, minus the squick factor."

Harry and Ron blinked.  _Squick_  factor? What the hell was that? Hermione talked about him and Snape in sexual endeavours so often that Harry was almost used to it, but he still felt sick at times by the thought. She'd never mentioned anything about squicks, whatever they may be.

"What kind of puni-" Ron just  _had_  to ask, didn't he? Harry had moved to cover Ron's mouth with his hand, but Hermione already knew what the question would be.

"Well, there's some standard BDSM, so things like chaining Harry to the dungeon walls, or to the bedposts, spanking, whips and lots of leather. I've had Harry go through unresolved sexual tension, where Snape gets him all riled up and then leaves him. I've had him go through a threesome and double penetra-"

"Hermione!" Harry almost squealed and plugged his ears with his fingers. "I'm not listening! Lalalala! My stomach can't handle anymore!"

"Go on, Hermione," Ron looked completely amazed, judging by the expression on his face. Harry paled.

"No, Ron! Not you, too!"

Hermione continued to happily rattle off just about EVERYTHING that Snape used as punishment, including and Harry quoted 'butt sex without preparation'. Inwardly, Harry winced. He was gay, yes, so he  _knew_  what that meant, but he was a virgin, so the thought of being roughly pounded into the mattress without preparation first made  _him_  cringe in pain.

He wondered if anyone else in the school read fanfiction, or  _wrote_  fanfiction, like Hermione. A notion lingered at the back of his mind, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

He knew it had something to do with Hermione and her fanfiction, and his newly added duty as Head Boy. He just couldn't name the right link! Damn it all!

* * *

This was not good. This was  _not_  good. This was really, really  _NOT_  good at all.

No one had mentioned giving speeches in the criteria for being Head Boy. Despite the fact that he'd given a rather inspiring speech for Dumbledore's Army back in his fifth year, Harry seriously thought that the school was making a huge, blithering mistake from this decision.

As part of the new campaign to help students, especially the younger ones, to be more assertive when it came to peer pressure and sex, Harry and Malfoy had landed themselves the rather unfortunate duty of speaking to the school as a whole about safe sex and propriety and proper conduct between students at Hogwarts.

He could  _not_  believe his wretched luck! Oh throw him to the Black Lake and let the Giant Squid eat him, for all he cared. He didn't want to make an even bigger fool of himself. This was absolutely stupid.

Absolutely, positively, ridiculously, downright  _stupid_!

It didn't help that whenever someone had mentioned sex around him and Malfoy, he would turn into the typical blushing virgin while Malfoy would get all cocky. Bastard. No morals, whatsoever!

And so here they were, standing in the Great Hall, in front of the entire school with a speech the two of them had just managed to scrape together the night before. And that was mainly because they'd only been  _told_  the night before, of the speech they were to deliver. This was practically impromptu!

It was after dinner and Professor Dumbledore had decided that now was a great time for school bonding. And what greater a topic to discuss to the school, after they'd consumed a hearty meal, than sex? And being safe. And diseases. And complications. And protection. And pregnancy. And abortion. Good lord, he was about to faint from the thought of it.

Of all the years to have picked  _two_  Head  _Boys_ , it just  _had_  to be when Harry Potter was in his seventh year, didn't it?

Malfoy began by introducing the topic, waiting and being surprisingly patient for all the immature children to quiet down when they'd started to giggle at the mention of 'sex'. Harry had to commend him in his efforts from rolling his eyes. It didn't help that the majority of the seventh year were cracking up, not at the mention of the topic, but because it was Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy delivering the talk.

Why couldn't they get a teacher to do this?!

Briefly, he thought of Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape giving the speech to the school and shuddered. No. Okay, fine. He'll do it. Better than having to hear about condom usage and pregnancies from Snape, of all people.

Malfoy handed the reigns over to Harry, who stuttered a bit at the start, but grew confident as he spoke about the possible risks and diseases. It was a bit awkward, considering that he had hundreds of eyes, both girls and boys of different ages, just...  _staring_ at him. Not that he wasn't used to it already, but it was still damn weird.

Harry stumbled a bit through his speech when he had to explain about the difference in magical and Muggle protection. Apparently, there was much interest in the Muggle side of things, so Harry felt himself grow red when he had to explain where and why a condom should be used. Malfoy, sensing Harry's awkwardness, decided to step in.

Despite himself, Harry felt a slight gratefulness towards Malfoy, and relief that the majority of the limelight had been shoved onto the blond Slytherin. They switched back and forth, occasionally looking at their palm cards to prompt them into speech, but otherwise it had all gone rather well.

Things turned downhill, however, when the question and answer time began. Harry struggled to answer a few of the more difficult questions, such as menstruation cycles in which Hermione had stepped up and decided to explain that for the girls. The boys had never looked so confused in their lives.

He smirked when Malfoy got the task of answering what a 'wet dream' was, but then  _the_  question came, aimed at both Harry  _and_  Malfoy actually, and both found themselves speechless and staring blankly at each other, mouths agape.

"What about guy on guy sex?"

Well...

* * *

"I don't think I'd be able to look at Snape the same way again," Harry bemoaned as he pulled a pillow into his arms, sitting beside Malfoy of all people. They'd earned a study-free day for their combined efforts and, after the 'school bonding', decided to retire to their dorm to bitch and whine to each other.

The two of them were too tired to snap and snarl at each other and no insults could come to mind when they were mentally drained. Harry clutched at the cushion like a lifeline and shook his head.

"The mental image..." he mumbled to himself, and to his pleasant surprise, Malfoy agreed.

"I can't believe...  _Snape_  of all people? How the heck did he explain  _that_  with such a straight face?" Malfoy uttered, his voice showing signs of disbelief and his face reflected his incredulousness. "Hah. Straight. Right."

Of course, Harry already knew  _how_  things worked between two men, but then to find out that Snape was... was...

"Gay," Malfoy seemed to whisper to their silent little living room. Harry glanced sharply at Malfoy and the two laughed nervously.

"I... I'd better go to bed. See you in the morning," Harry mumbled as he stood up to rush to his room, his cheeks flushed red. He skirted around the couch, and Malfoy, and scurried away.

Draco didn't move from his position on the couch, but he allowed his eyes to follow Potter as he left.

Oh God. He  _hadn't_  just checked out  _Potter's_  arse, had he?!

Sighing, he grabbed the cushion that Potter had forced into a death-grip and pulled it to his chest, inhaling gently. It didn't have Potter's scent at all. He stared moodily into the flickering flames of the fireplace.

What  _was_  he expecting, anyway?

Hermione had done extremely well, explaining the women's cycle but Potter... he'd never seen the boy get so flustered in his life.

Draco allowed himself to smile into the edges of the pillow.

Could Potter possibly be...?

... A  _virgin_?

* * *

The lingering and nagging feeling wouldn't leave the back of Harry's mind as he tossed and turned, then gave up and merely stared blankly upwards at the red canopy of his bed. Whatever it was, it had something to do with Hermione and her fanfiction. And homosexuality. And sex. And...

Oh god. That must have been it!

The link that he'd been searching for suddenly seemed to burn into his mind, it was becoming painfully obvious.

Nearly half the school was Muggleborn or half-blood anyway, so they must have had some interaction with technology before. And there was a great deal of students who had access to computers and, subsequently, the Internet in the Muggle Studies computer lab.

What were the chances...?

Harry paled. He had learned to ignore people staring at him since he'd come to Hogwarts in his first year, but now that he thought about it... people  _were_  giving him odd looks when he walked through the corridors, completely unaware of what was circulating around the school. And... And every time he had gotten a detention with Snape, people seemed to be  _grinning_  like they were happy about it.

No way... what sort of monster had Hermione created?!

But deep down, he knew he couldn't just  _tell_  Hermione to stop. She seemed really set on writing her fanfiction and Harry hadn't the heart to tell her to stop it because it was damaging his reputation.

Sighing, he pulled the covers up over his head. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was just paranoid.

Yes... that must be it. Paranoid. Who wouldn't be with some psychopathic, cold-blooded (quite true...) murderer, like a gunman on trigger happy, only with a wand, out after them?

Harry had every right to be!

* * *

 **Rice-Ball247:** I'm sorry this chapter is so short. And if you're still confused about the 'Malfoy wooing Ron' thing, don't be. We all know he doesn't mean it -grins- what else do I need to address... if you've figured out the pairing that will develop over the next few chapters, good for you!

School starts tomorrow and I still have to write my Extension English 2 piece. It's not THAT bad... except it's just that... homo-eroticism isn't... allowed... by the Board of Studies...

Send your thoughts, across the sea, from you to me, with that button of green...


	8. Harry, the Two Faced

_Last time:_

Sighing, he pulled the covers up over his head. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was just paranoid.

Yes... that must be it. Paranoid. Who wouldn't be with some psychopathic, cold-blooded (quite true...) murderer, like a gunman on trigger happy, only with a wand, out after them?

Harry had every right to be!

* * *

 

"You sure you're going to go through with this?" Ron asked, looking a bit pale as Harry nodded firmly and glanced at himself in the mirror.

"This is what I look like now. If I come out with any injuries, you'll know they got me good," Harry sighed as his hand went unconsciously to where his wand was hidden somewhere in his robes.

"Yes... but you're not allowed to abuse your Head Boy privileges, Harry," Ron looked a little worried. Usually, he would have been all for any of Harry's whacky ideas, but he seemed a bit apprehensive this time, especially if it meant Harry could get into major trouble.

"You've been hanging out with Hermione too much, Ron," Harry flashed the red-head a grin and it widened when his best friend's face reddened to the shade of his hair. He clapped a hand on Ron's shoulder and the grin became a comforting smile. "Don't worry too much. I'm just getting tired of sitting around. If we want to get this done before the Christmas holidays start, I need to shove Malfoy in the right direction."

"By going into the snake-pit? Harry, you're insane!" Ron exclaimed, swatting Harry's hand off his shoulder, only to grab it seconds later. His grip was awfully tight. "Harry, you don't need to do this. I only agreed to act because I thought it was funny. But if you get punished, it's not worth it, as much as I would love to see that git humiliated."

"I'm not doing this  _just_  to make fun of him, Ron," Harry mumbled quietly as he made his way out of the Gryffindor portrait hole.

"Then why?" Ron gave an exasperated sigh, throwing his hands into the air in a gesture that was eerily similar to Hermione.

Harry merely gave him a smile and turned to walk down to the dungeons. He didn't know why he was doing this, but for some reason, he felt rebellious and impulsive. Usually, those two were  _not_  a good thing. Especially when Harry was involved.

Malfoy had told him that he would be in the Slytherin common room all day, as it was a Sunday, so they had no classes, and that it was none of his bloody business what he decided to do with his time. Harry was miffed, but he didn't grant Malfoy the pleasure of seeing such a reaction on his face.

But it was already six weeks since the school year had begun, so they were halfway through October and the holidays would begin in December. Two or so months weren't enough to set his plan into action properly, especially when Malfoy was involved. He was really stubborn and was hard to get along with.

Forget that time they'd sat together almost like companions. The next morning after a night of rest, Malfoy was his usual arrogant, self-centred self and had irritated Harry nearly every hour of their class-free day. Thrice, Harry had wanted to just run off to class to avoid Malfoy, but no, he chose to lock himself in his room instead and just sleep.

Anyway, back to the task on hand – Harry was going to use his overriding password to get into the Slytherin common room and drag Malfoy out, with the excuse that he was going to force the blond into action.

Sucking in a breath, Harry managed through the labyrinth-like corridors until he reached a dead end. Nothing but a stretch of wall, until he stated the overriding password and a door appeared. He closed his eyes as he pushed it open.

Many eyes were fixed upon him the moment he stepped in and all went deathly silent. A few mouths had dropped open as well. Then the whispering, a few hissing, jeering and sneering, snarling and scowling and  _glaring_ , began.

The Slytherin he was looking for was seated on a black, leather couch beside Zabini and Parkinson was to his other side. The moment the uproar in the foreign common room began, Malfoy's head snapped towards the entrance.

Harry swallowed, ignoring the taunts and insults that were being thrown his way. He saw a few wands being pulled out, but otherwise, no one had hexed or cursed him. He moved forward until he reached Malfoy.

This was it. Never a better time than the present. It was time to seize the day.

* * *

 

Blaise, Pansy and Draco were talking about their plans for the Christmas holidays and Pansy bragged about how she and her family were going over to France for the break. Blaise and Draco were staying at Hogwarts for the first time, since neither were in the mood to return home.

They were seated on the couch, amiably talking and Draco had been staring into the fireplace, wondering  _what the hell_  he was going to do with Potter around during the Christmas break, when a loud commotion brought his attention to the entrance of the Slytherin common room.

Potter himself. Draco's eyes narrowed. What the bloody hell did the idiot think he was doing?! He was abusing his power! Draco felt an insult rising in his throat, but all that came out was a strangled, "Potter," when the boy in question stepped forward.

On the outside, he looked completely calm and at ease, but looking into Potter's eyes, Draco could see hesitance and trepidation, as if he might step into a trap at any given moment.

Within a few skipped heartbeats, Potter was standing in front of him, gazing down into his eyes like he had something to say. Beside him, Draco could feel Blaise stiffen in Potter's presence, his body tensing. Pansy looked like she wanted to kill the Gryffindor for invading the one place that was Slytherin-only territory.

And she was right. Potter  _was_  invading their space. No one went back to what they were doing. All eyes were on them.

Surprisingly, Potter grabbed Draco by the cuff of his wrist and tugged gently. "I need to talk to you in private," he said softly, his eyes flickering across to Blaise. Draco knew when Blaise was in a bad mood – he could feel the tension rolling off his best friend in waves. Hopefully, he wouldn't get an earful from the boy later.

Snatching back his arm, Draco stood to full height and was pleased with a triumphant sense of glee when he stood a good head taller than Potter.

"Why should I listen to you?" Draco snarled, an eyebrow cocked upwards with a smirk firmly in place. Then...

Potter lowered his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like 'you wanted help' and then lifted his eyes to shyly meet Draco's, his pink lips pulled into a pout.

And for a moment, Draco had thought his heart had stopped beating.

Grumbling about nosy Gryffindors, Draco ignored the watchful and suspicious eyes of every other Slytherin in the room, grabbed Potter by his slender wrist and yanked him out into the corridor outside.

"Are you insane?" Draco hissed, narrowing quicksilver eyes at Potter's smug expression. So this had been some sort of weird trick to get him  _out_  of the Slytherin common room. Draco had to hand it to him, it was brave in the foolish, Gryffindor way, but it was sly in that Slytherin sense.

"Well, I could have just gone in there and yanked you out of your seat when you weren't expecting it, but if you resisted, I would look like a complete idiot. So I had to think of a way to get you out of there somehow," Potter grinned and started off down the corridor. Draco sighed. Potter must have expected him to follow.

 

* * *

"So what did you pull me out here for?" Malfoy snarled as they rounded a corridor and began to walk up the stairs to the Ground Floor. Harry stopped beside the marble, grand staircase of the Entrance Hall. He smiled and gestured for the front doors, which were open to show the daylight streaming in, flooding the enormous room with natural light.

 

The ceiling was so high that not even the sunlight could illuminate what was above. Harry wondered how they cleaned the ceilings at Hogwarts.

"Let's go out, shall we?" Harry asked with a smile. He ignored how weird that sentence sounded as he turned and listened to Malfoy's footsteps and grumbles under his breath as he followed Harry out the doors. They turned and sat on the lawn and Harry waited, resting back on his palms with his eyes closed.

"So are you going to bloody tell me what you brought me out here for, or am I going to have to force it out of you, Potter?" Malfoy growled, a hint of irritation and frustration in his tone of voice. Harry turned and opened one eye.

"Wait, I'm trying to think."

Malfoy scoffed. "Think of what?"

"Why I brought you out here."

"... you're an idiot, do you know that, Potter? A freak," Malfoy grumbled, but shut his eyes as well. He gave a start when he felt something block the sunlight from his face and he opened his eyes to glare at Harry, who had decided to come dangerously close to his face.

"I remember now," Harry smirked and then drew back to observe Malfoy's pink cheeks. Harry watched patiently as Malfoy scrambled to sit up properly and scowl. "Well, it's about Ron."

"What about Wea-  _Ron_?" Malfoy had nearly blurted out Ron's surname, but had forced himself to say his name instead. Harry narrowed his eyes. There  _was_  a plot behind this. Malfoy looked as if he was lying about the entire thing – for one, his eyes kept shifting and never meeting Harry's, and his fingers were digging into the magically grown grass of the lawn. If one looked closer, they would have noticed a thin sheen of sweat beginning to build up on Malfoy's skin.

"Well, you asked for help and since you so rudely rejected my attempt to help last time, I'm going to  _force_  you to act. You and I are going to Hogsmeade,  _now_ , and we're going to get him a Wizard's Chess set," Harry smirked at Malfoy's flabbergasted face.

" _We_  are doing no such thing, Potter. I don't want to be seen anywhere with  _you_ ," Malfoy snarled and stood up to brush his robes, then walk away. He felt a resistance however, when he took a step forwards and felt the hem at the back of his robes being pulled back. He turned around to bark at Harry to let go, but suddenly, his eyes went glassy when he saw Harry's expression.

For some reason or another, Harry had realized that putting on a pout seemed to work on Malfoy. He shuddered to think of  _why_ , but he wasn't completely transparent when it came to Malfoy's reactions. He was painfully aware that when he pouted or 'begged with his eyes', as Hermione put it, some boys seemed to put themselves into a trance.

It wasn't like he was a magical creature, like a Veela or anything, but Harry had a baby face, and as much as he hated it, he was going to use it to flaunt to his advantage. Malfoy was a sucker for this face.

"Why not, Malfoy?" Harry whined, and inwardly, he cringed when he realized he sounded like a whore begging to be done. Malfoy's mouth dropped open slightly and he seemed to be unable to think, before he frowned and pulled his robes away from Harry's clutches.

"Don't do that!" he scowled, taking a step away from Harry. Harry stood and gave him another pout.

"Do what?" he asked in an innocent tone. Malfoy narrowed his eyes and swallowed.

"Never mind. Why am  _I_  going to Hogsmeade now?" he questioned, walking back to the castle entrance without bothering to check if Harry was following him. Seconds later, Harry fell into step beside him and gave him a sly look.

" _We_  are going to Hogsmeade now, because  _you_  need to buy Ron a gift to start wooing him," Harry grinned. He was loving this. Unknowingly, Malfoy had put himself into a rather tight situation. Malfoy narrowed his eyes again.

"How on earth are we going to get to Hogsmeade? All the carriages have left and I sure as hell am  _not_  walking all the way there," Malfoy spat and then turned to walk into the castle.

"Well, you can come with me under my cloak and  _we_  can go via a secret passage. I'll be good if you don't tell," Harry shot Malfoy a playful wink and hurried into the cool interior of the Entrance Hall.

Harry didn't notice Malfoy's cheeks flush red as they walked up to the third floor to grab Harry's cloak.

"So where to now?" Malfoy grumbled, already hidden beneath Harry's cloak. It was quite hard to fit underneath it, and both, especially Malfoy, had to kind of squat while they walked so that their feet would be covered.

"Conveniently for us, there's a statue on this very floor that will take us straight to Honeydukes' cellar," Harry flashed Malfoy a sly grin and then steered him in the direction of the statue of the humpbacked witch.

He tried to suppress the glee he felt when he heard Malfoy's intake of breath. "C'mon Malfoy. Don't lag behind. And make sure you don't get caught coming up either."

They followed the tunnel until they reached the ladder that went up into the cellar. Harry ran inference first, lifting the rather heavy trapdoor (the rattle of something that sounded suspiciously like Bertie Botts beans indicated that there was a box stacked right on top of the door) to find that the cellar was empty. He nodded to Malfoy then pushed the door open, wincing when he heard the clatter of the beans as they fell. Luckily, none of the boxes were open.

He could hear the voices of students outside, chattering excitedly to each other. He waited a moment, just in case anyone would be coming back. He watched the stairs carefully. No one was coming.

"Potter, move your fat arse out of my face," Malfoy grumbled and Harry squeaked when he felt a sharp slap across his rear. He glared down at Malfoy's cheeky expression.

"Do you want us to get caught, Malfoy?" he hissed and quickly scurried up the ladder when no one seemed to be coming. He pulled Malfoy up and shut the trap door, but at that moment, someone began to come down the stairs, carrying empty boxes of what was once full of sweets.

Harry quickly threw the cloak over the both of them and pressed them into a small niche between the stacks of cartons. The box behind Malfoy's head read 'Cockroach Clusters' and the one just below his shoulder was labelled 'Blood Suckers'. He could feel Malfoy's warm body pressed up against his chest and one of Malfoy's hands resting on his hip, where it came to be when they'd pushed themselves into hiding. The person seemed to take their time and then noticed the spilled box of Every Flavour Beans, stooping down to right the mess.

Harry began to breathe hard, pointedly keeping his gaze on anywhere  _but_  Malfoy. He sucked in a breath when he felt something hard digging into his thigh. He  _hoped_  that was one of their wands. He shot Malfoy an irritated look and was surprised to see that the Slytherin had kept his eyes tactfully averted, a light blush on his cheeks.

Oh. Well then...

Harry stayed stock still, but the corner of a crate was digging uncomfortably into the arch of his back and he shifted to shy away from it. Malfoy's eyes widened and he stiffened slightly, a small groan leaving his lips.

Harry shot him a warning glare and raised his hand to Malfoy's lips. He couldn't believe he was doing this, but he curled a finger and gently held it between Malfoy's wet lips. He could feel Malfoy's lips tightening around his finger and then Malfoy shifted so that his groin was pressed against his hip.

No. Fucking.  _Way._

Slowly, Malfoy began to shift up and down, pressing lightly into Harry, and rutting against his thigh. Harry watched in amazement as Malfoy's eyes began to flutter to a close. Malfoy's lips clamped down harder on Harry's finger and Harry could feel a familiar heat stirring in his lower stomach.

No. No. No!

He shoved Malfoy away when he had noticed that the damn attendant who took too long had finally left. He wiped the saliva that coated his finger onto Malfoy's robe and then pulled Malfoy up the creaky stairs to the main level of Honeydukes.

He hoped that this wouldn't be brought up again. They walked through the store and Harry realized that Malfoy had grabbed a Blood Sucker on the way as they walked out of the store. They walked on for a while, and then hid in an alleyway to pull of the cloak. Harry's cheeks were still flushed red as he tucked the cloak into his robes. Their eyes refused to meet.

"So..." Malfoy's voice was hoarse. "Where to now?"

Harry shrugged and started walking in the direction of the gift stores. He couldn't believe what happened! He struggled to force the memory of the arousing event that had occurred just minutes before, out of his mind.

Malfoy didn't say anything, so neither did Harry. He couldn't believe he had unknowingly assisted Malfoy in frottage of all things. They stepped into a fairly empty store and took a glance around. There were sets of Wizarding Chess for sale, ranging from cheap to fairly expensive.

As Malfoy began to inspect the more expensive side of the store (after all, he wouldn't be caught dead buying cheap things, even if it  _was_  for Ron), Harry took a discreet glance at the other boy's front.

Harry wasn't completely clueless. He  _knew_  that beneath those robes, Malfoy was painfully hard and hadn't gotten off yet. Harry grinned and went behind Malfoy, 'accidentally' bumping him forward into the counter. A loud moan left Malfoy's lips before the Slytherin realized what had happened and shot Harry a glare.

Harry gave him a fairly innocent smile, which turned to a smirk as soon as Malfoy had his back turned. He walked back to the cheaper side of the store, bumping into Malfoy again. This time, a low hiss escaped the blond, who whirled around to hiss at _Harry_  instead.

"Stop. Doing. That," he growled in a dangerously low tone, which came out rather husky. Harry felt his cheeks grow warmer despite himself and decided that he'd done enough teasing for the day.

He decided to preoccupy himself with looking at a few charms (the jewellery type) and bracelets while he waited, unaware that his companion was done. Malfoy came up behind him and glanced over his shoulder.

"Didn't know you were queer," came a sultry voice into his ear. Harry bit back an insult when he froze, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He felt Malfoy's hot breath prickling against his skin. A subtle thrust of something hard against his arse caused him to suck in a breath and quickly run out of the store. Behind him, he could hear Malfoy chuckling to himself.

 

* * *

Harry was fidgeting. He usually did that when he was nervous; gnawing on his bottom lip, glancing around in whatever environment he was in, biting his nails – oh yes, he was very nervous.

 

Ron and Hermione shot him concerned looks, but he didn't notice as he was too busy chewing on the edge of a Gryffindor cushion.

"Harry, stop that. That's public property and that's disgusting," Hermione frowned and reached over to tug the room adornment out of Harry's hands. Harry lifted his hand to his mouth and began to bite on the nail of his thumb. Ron sighed and shared a worried glance with Hermione.

"Did... did your plan fail?" Ron asked quietly and was thankful that Harry had finally reacted. He looked so...  _shaken_.

"Y-yeah Ron. You're gonna get yourself a new,  _expensive_  chess set," Harry sighed and then went back to biting his nails. A moment of joy crossed Ron's face, before the concerned look returned.

"Mate, you're acting weird. What happened?" Ron prodded him, causing Harry to jump jerkily. He glanced around the common room and then leaned in to whisper, "Malfoy happened."

"Malfoy? What did  _Malfoy_  do?" Hermione asked, furrowing her eyebrows. Harry swallowed. There was  _no way_  he was going to let Hermione know about this. Or Ron. Ron would probably throw up all over him... and Hermione would go on a fanfiction rampage.

He'd have to keep this to himself, unfortunately.

"He...  _stole_  from Honeydukes," Harry lied lamely, forcing himself to sit up straight and had to sit on his hands so that he wouldn't bite his nails again. Damn his legs for starting to shake up and down though.

"So it worked?" Ron asked, at the same time Hermione asked, "What were you doing in Hogsmeade with  _Malfoy_?"

Harry shook his head and stood. "I... I'm tired. Yes, Ron, the plan worked. Feel free to tell Hermione about today for me."

He bolted out the door before anyone could even say Quidditch. Hermione turned an expectant gaze on Ron, who twitched uncomfortably.

"Well... err... Hermione, I don't exactly know what happened at Hogsmeade, since I was with  _you_  all day..." Ron managed to get out before Hermione sighed and turned back to her story writing.

"Ron, what do you think of Snape using asphyxias while penetrating Harry?" Hermione asked absentmindedly as she began to write her newest smut scene. Ron blinked.

"Err... okay?" He replied, obviously not having any clue what 'asphyxias' meant.

 

* * *

Harry bolted through the corridors, dodging students and teachers (thankfully, not Snape) alike. He skidded to a halt when he reached Sir Jean. The suit of armour saluted him as he wheezed out, 'Sauerkraut', which was the new password, then moved aside.

 

Thankfully, Malfoy wasn't anywhere in sight. He ran to his room anyway, as if Malfoy would appear at any second from the walls, or something, then locked the door. He leaned against it, his chest heaving.

 _Why_  had he gotten so worked up about Malfoy? Malfoy was just... was just teasing.

But what happens if the teasing gets too far? A twinge of regret struck somewhere in Harry's body but he ignored it. He wasn't going to give up his plans to embarrass Malfoy in front of everybody.

This was probably the nastiest thing he'd ever thought of doing, but Malfoy had always taken it too far. It was time the Slytherin got a taste of his own medicine...

So long as Harry was still willing to shove sweet revenge down his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rice-Ball247: So there's Chapter Seven up! Hope you enjoyed the little Draco/Harry scene in there. I think Harry is starting to waver in his resolve...


	9. Blaise Zabini, Sextraordinaire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling. I make no profit.
> 
> Warning: The Drarry will be... not in this chapter, that's for sure. Sorry. But soon. Just hold on for a little longer.

_Last time..._

This was probably the nastiest thing he'd ever thought of doing, but Malfoy had always taken it too far. It was time the Slytherin got a taste of his own medicine...

So long as Harry was still willing to shove sweet revenge down his throat.

* * *

 

**Chapter Eight: Blaise Zabini, Sextraordinaire**

"Mudblood's watching," Blaise nudged Draco discreetly under the table and Draco glanced up from beneath his fringe to see Hermione watching them intently. He felt his cheeks slowly grow red.

The bushy-haired girl seemed to realize that she'd been caught staring, so she resumed eating her breakfast and jotting things down in a Muggle notebook as she ate. Probably doing homework.

Draco sighed. She was so perfect. Beautiful yet brainy at the same time. He didn't know when he'd come to be attracted to Hermione Granger – it had probably occurred somewhere during the end of sixth year, when he'd started to have wet dreams about the female component of the Gryffindor 'Dream Team'.

He'd wanked off to thoughts about doing dirty things with her, spoiling that innocence that she had, which was just begging to be tainted.

But then thoughts about just hanging out with her, being close to her, talking to her,  _being_  with her, began to flood his mind and he realized that he'd come to... to  _love_  Hermione Granger.

Then his eyes drifted to Hermione's left and there was Potter, glaring down at his breakfast. With an adorable pout on his face.

Draco shuddered and tried to rid himself of the thought. And the  _feel_  of Potter when he had rutted against him in the Honeydukes' cellar. Gods. The boy was so warm, and firm, yet soft at the same time.

How Draco  _hated_  Harry Potter. He wanted to dirty his image, sully his reputation,  _taint_  whatever innocence had been left untouched by the Dark Lord and  **break**  him.

He tore his intent gaze away from Potter when he felt Blaise shift beside him and looked down into his best friend's lap to see him rubbing himself through his trousers, under the table.

"Blaise, what are you doing?" Draco hissed as Blaise groaned into his cereal, looking completely normal above the table. Blaise shot him a smirk then he stilled and let out a shuddering gasp of air.

"Fuck. I gotta go clean up," Blaise murmured as he stood to leave. Draco pulled on Blaise's wrist, mindful of the fact that his best friend had been... masturbating under the breakfast table with  _this_  hand.

"Did you just..." Draco trailed off at Blaise's look of glee. His blood ran cold when he heard one name leave Blaise's lips; the boy nodded in the general direction of the Gryffindor table.

"Potter."

And as he watched his best friend's retreating back, Draco allowed his gaze to fall back on Potter's laughing form.

His blood began to boil and he felt something sharp spike in his gut.

No. Absolutely not.

But what confused him the most was, was he doing this to protect his best friend from Potter? Or because he didn't want to give up Potter to his best friend?

* * *

 

Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way down to the potions classroom first thing after breakfast. Hermione was ecstatic since she felt like she was going to get some 'inspiration' for her fanfiction from this lesson. Harry sincerely hoped she  _wouldn't_ , which made him feel guilty because he didn't want to break her little heart because she  _clearly_  enjoyed writing.

It just felt...  _weird_. The trio lined up with the Gryffindors on one side of the flagstone corridor, and the Slytherins on the other. Years of being together in the same class taught them that if they had nothing in common, they should ignore each other before Snape came down.

Snape seemed to be taking points from Slytherin often, as well, and Harry could only help but wonder why.

"Potter," came a voice from the other side of the corridor. Harry lifted his head from his conversation with Hermione and glanced around. No one seemed to be looking in their direction, or paying attention to the Gryffindors.

And he  _sincerely_  hoped that he  _wasn't_  hearing voices again, like in his second year at Hogwarts. Because that turned out to be a rather nasty and troublesome fiasco.

" _Potter_ ," the voice hissed again. Harry ignored it this time. If it was some stupid Slytherin joke just to see him glance around like an idiot, he wasn't going to fall for it. Hermione and Ron shot him concerned looks but he pointedly looked at the joint where Hermione's shoulders just brushed against Ron's arm.

Snape came storming down the corridor, his robes snapping and billowing out behind him as he did so. They all quieted as he whipped out his wand and unlocked the classroom door, then stood aside to usher them in.

Harry kept his eyes averted from Snape as he walked through, trying to keep a distance away from the professor. He  _still_  hadn't forgotten the detention with Snape that time. And when he remembered what Malfoy had done in Hogsmeade... Harry shuddered.

"Do not get too comfortable," Snape drawled as he stalked to the front of the classroom and  _loomed_  in front of them, his arms folded in an intimidating manner across his chest. "Today, you'll be working in pairs, which  _I_  will assign. You will be brewing a base for Veritaserum, which will then lead up to the real potion in a two weeks time. If, by then, you are unable to produce a proper truth serum, you will be held back in detention every night until you do. Am I understood?"

His voice dropped dangerously low at the last sentence and Harry couldn't help but nod shakily from his position beside Ron. Snape's dark eyes rested on Harry for a moment before he went to stand behind his desk and picked up a single sheet of parchment.

"There will obviously be no switching of partners," Snape's lip curled in what Harry deemed as 'delight' for the dour man. "I expect an equal contribution from  _both_  parties."

Please don't be Malfoy. Please don't be Malfoy. Please don't be Malfoy!

The list was read at an agonizingly slow pace and Harry wished that it would just be over and done with.

"Parkinson, Granger."

Hermione flashed Pansy Parkinson a tentative smile, which was returned with an upturned nose and a sneer.

"Zabini, Potter."

Harry let out a relieved sigh as he picked up his books and walked over to Zabini's workbench. The Slytherin had yet to move his books from Harry's side of the table.

"Err... can you please move your books?" Harry whispered, so as to not interrupt Snape as he read out the list. Zabini regarded Harry with cool eyes.

"I could."

But he made no move to gather his property. Harry frowned.

"Will you move your books?" Harry hissed in what he hoped was a low tone. He heard a brief pause in Snape's voice and was sure that the man was glaring at him.

"I will."

Zabini still made no move to take the books from Harry's side of the table. He felt stupid just standing there.

"Which question do I have to ask to get you to move your books?" Harry asked in half desperation, half irritation. Zabini almost smiled.

"Potter, five points for disrupting the class. Hurry up and sit down, you foolish boy!" Snape barked from the front of his classroom. Harry muttered under his breath and turned to Zabini.

"Move your books," he ordered, in what he hoped was a firm voice, but he wavered slightly. Zabini narrowed his eyes at Harry for a moment, and then grudgingly moved his books over so that Harry could take the place beside him.

"Malfoy, Weasley."

Harry sucked in a breath when he heard Ron curse. He turned and gnawed on his bottom lip, looking on with worry. Ron flashed him a nervous smile and Harry felt his stomach churn with anxiety. Snape, that bastard! He was doing this on purpose!

He wouldn't have minded being Malfoy's partner, as long as Ron didn't have to suffer with someone he didn't like. At least Harry could  _tolerate_ Malfoy.

And then a thought occurred to him. Ron should be alright. Malfoy was supposed to be  _pretending_  to  _like_  Ron. And he was supposed to be giving the Wizard's Chess set over to Ron soon.

There was no way that Malfoy could possibly insult Ron without foiling his own plans. And he wouldn't dare sabotage their potion for the sake of getting Ron in trouble, because it meant that Malfoy would be in for it as well.

He let out a sigh of relief. Ron was safe.

He turned to glance at Zabini, who sneered.

But he wasn't.

* * *

 

Draco let out steady breaths to calm himself. Despite being one of Snape's favourite students, the Head of Slytherin would much rather see the Gryffindors separated and suffering, than cater to the sanity of his own house.

No wonder there were psychopathic murderers on the run. People like Snape probably caused people like the Dark Lord to  _breed_  in Slytherin.

Truly, a sadistic bastard at heart. He moved to one side of the desk and kept his eyes on the board as the weasel sat down beside him. There was nothing but tension between them and no words were spoken. In front of them, Draco could see Blaise leaning back into his own chair and Potter hadn't even noticed that Blaise had his arm wrapped around his backrest.

Inwardly, Draco seethed. He couldn't fathom why, though.

He tried to focus on the instructions that magically appeared on the board. Base for Veritaserum. Child's play.

But with Blaise starting to put the moves on Potter, and discreetly  _flirting_  with him, right in front of Draco's eyes, he found it rather difficult to concentrate. It would be a rather strenuous fortnight indeed.

* * *

 

"Okay, add it in," Harry said breathlessly as Zabini carefully measured the final ingredient of their potion and moved on to the stirring and simmering stage. He felt warm, slightly sweaty hands steady his own as Harry took his turn to stir.

"Gently, like this, Potter," Zabini whispered from behind him, keeping one hand steady on his hip. Harry could feel his cheeks blazing red as he felt Zabini press against his back. Luckily, there weren't any tell-tale signs of arousal, unlike  _two other_ Slytherins who shall not be named. "You could be a natural at potion brewing, Potter, if you just follow the instructions. Don't be distracted by anyone else."

'Right. Distracted. Like it isn't distracting to stir a potion with you behind me,' Harry thought grimly to himself as Zabini's hands finally let go of him and the warm presence, that seemed to mould against Harry, moved away. Harry allowed his body to sag with relief and he listened to the sounds of gentle and subtle bubbling of every pairs' cauldrons. The slightly murky gray-white base for Veritaserum was coming along quite nicely.

Harry stirred the ladle twice clockwise and then four times anti-clockwise before he pulled the utensil out from their pewter cauldron and extinguished the flame. There seemed to be only a few minutes left of class, maybe around ten or so.

Zabini had the vials and stoppers ready and Harry filled them up carefully, decanting each glass container with an equal amount of their class work. Zabini stoppered them all, then placed them in a wooden box with tiny compartments and carried it up to Snape's desk.

Harry banished the remaining puddle that remained at the bottom of the now-cool cauldron and cast a standard cleaning charm. He then packed away the remaining ingredients and discarded them in the nearby trash. There was only a minute till the bell. Harry sat down and waited patiently until they could be dismissed.

Zabini returned and sat down beside him, his head propped up on one arm as he blatantly stared. Harry turned and raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

This time, Zabini gave him a smile of sorts. "You're not so bad, Potter, I'll give you that." There was a deep sounding bell that rang though Hogwarts twice, signalling the transition between one class and another. "See you around, Potter."

Harry felt his cheeks grow warm again. Why the heck was his heart racing so fast?! Sucking in another breath, Harry rose on shaky legs and stumbled into Transfiguration minutes later.

* * *

 

There was always a short break of about half an hour after lunch where the students returned to their dorms and rested before going back to classes. The advantages of actually living in your school were great. Sometimes.

Harry, happily sated with his lunch, decided that since Malfoy continuously decided to bring over his best friend without his permission, he might as well drag Hermione and Ron to  _finally_  check out his dorms.

Why he'd never done it before? Well... no one had exactly asked. Well, maybe Ron on one or two occasions, but that had been when Harry was sure Malfoy would say no.

"Flitterbug," Harry told Sir Jean, grinning as the suit of armour did a strange kind of shimmy to the side. He listened to the flagstones grinding as he stepped into their dorm, Hermione and Ron in tow.

"Welcome to our humble abode," Harry stated with a theatrical grin as he turned around and gave a mock bow. Hermione lifted her hands to her mouth in playful shock and gasped.

Ron scrunched up his nose. "You make it sound like you two are married..."

Hermione giggled as Harry turned red and then green. House colours, yay! But his first reaction was to blush, and then feel sick.

"No way. He's too much of a git-"

"You're  _so_  nice, Potter," drawled a sarcastic voice from the little hallway to Harry's left. He spun around and saw Malfoy step out of his room, Zabini following after. Ron scowled and Hermione did her best to keep her face blank.

"Malfoy, Zabini," Harry greeted them curtly and then stalked past them, gesturing for Ron and Hermione to follow. Malfoy sneered at Harry's back and then stuck his tongue out at the closed door for good measure.

"Don't you just love it when he gets angry?" Blaise sighed as he floated back into Draco's room. "His cheeks go red and his eyes get brighter and his lips... Fuck..."

"Blaise. Do me a favour and belt up, right now."

* * *

 

"Err... nice room, Harry," Ron was meant to give him a compliment as he pushed aside some dirty socks and sat down on the bed. To be honest, the room was an absolute pigsty. Well, Gryffindor males were used to it, the females, not so much.

Hermione's nose wrinkled with disgust. "Harry, you really need to clean your room," and with a wave of her wand, she directed the dirty clothes into the laundry basket, then turned her wand on various aspects of the room, such as his cluttered desk and all was right again. She breathed a sigh of relief, glad that her job was done.

Harry smiled and sat down on the chair that was accommodated by his desk. "So, how do you like my dorm?"

"Brill, Harry," Ron flashed him a smile and flopped backwards on the bed. "This is your old bed from the dorm, innit?"

Harry nodded as Ron turned over onto his belly and pulled a pillow under his head. Within seconds, the red-head was fast asleep.

"Have you been... slave driving him?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow at his exhausted friend. "You haven't been forcing him to finish his homework every night, have you?" He glanced at Hermione suspiciously.

The brunette's cheeks coloured and she huffed, rolling her eyes playfully. "So what if I have? He's doing really well in his classes though. And he's helping me with my fanfiction."

Harry's eyes bugged out of his head. "He's  _what_? How on  _earth_  did you get Ronald Weasley to help you write... write..." Harry shook his head. He couldn't even bring himself to say it.

Hermione giggled at Harry's flustered state and sat down on the bed, beside Ron's sleeping figure. She gently ran a hand through the thick tufts of red hair and smiled warmly. Harry felt a warm and fuzzy feeling floating through his body. Really, those two were meant to be...

"I think he likes me, Harry," Hermione smiled up at Harry as she tenderly stroked the top of Ron's head. "He's so cute."

Harry blanched. "Please don't talk about that stuff in front of me. Especially if Ron is involved."

Sweet, yes, but sappy? No, he didn't  _do_  sappy.

Hermione rolled her eyes again and rolled Ron over so that he was laying face up. He was in deep sleep now. Harry blinked as Hermione subtly slipped her wand into her robes.

"You cast a sleeping charm on him?" Harry exclaimed, his eyes growing comically wide. Hermione nodded and then fixed her gaze onto Harry.

"You have some explaining to do. Ron obviously doesn't know what happened at Hogsmeade and I've let this get too far already. You  _have_  to tell me, now. You may not be able to tell Ron, but you can damn well clue me in," Hermione growled at him. Whoa. It was almost scary. Scratch that. It was downright terrifying.

Harry flushed at the memory of Malfoy thrusting against his hip, grinding into his arse... then shook his head and sighed.

"Hermione, I really can't tell you what happened. Trust me... it wasn't anything... bad, per se, but you'll just have to trust me on this one when I say that it would be better of if no one else knew," Harry gave her a smile and held up his hand when Hermione opened her mouth to protest. "Please Hermione, just drop it."

Hermione scowled for a moment, then she sighed resignedly and gave Harry a weak smile. "You know that you can come and talk to me whenever you need help or advice, right Harry?"

Harry nodded firmly. "Of course, 'Mione."

That seemed to satisfy her. "Ennervate," she pointed her wand at Ron, who yawned and blinked up at the canopy of Harry's four-poster.

"How'd I get here? Did I fall asleep?" Ron seemed to go into a panic, his face paling and his voice rising in pitch. "I don't remember going to sleep! Harry!"

"Relax, Ronald," Hermione chided and stood up off the bed to stretch. "You slept right through our break. C'mon, Ron. You and I have charms."

Hermione and Ron had decided to  _not_  take the Care of Magical Creatures class, unfortunately, which left Harry alone in the small class of sixteen. Oh well. At least Hagrid was there. Hagrid was his first friend, Harry mused, as he made his way to the grounds and walked down with Seamus, who was also taking the class, to Hagrid's hut.

The half-giant in question was actually setting up tables around the flat, dusty ground near his hut. As the small class approached, the bearded man smiled widely at them all.

"Great of yeh ter come! Jus' follow through 'ere and watch yer steps. I think I mighta dropped one of 'em," Hagrid didn't specify exactly  _what_  he'd dropped, so Harry and the class, for that matter, kept their eyes on the floor for anything that looked abnormal. "Ev'rybody take a seat."

The small class sat, grins on nearly every students' face as they waited in anticipation for what they'd be dealing with today.

"This class is gonna be a treat for yeh," Hagrid rubbed his large hands together with excitement as he reached into a cage and pulled out a glow stick.

Well, it was rather hard to see, considering they were in broad daylight, but the thing in his hands was most definitely glowing, since it was hot  _pink_. Someone had the nerve to ask, "What's that?"

Hagrid beamed at the interest. "Well, these lil beauts are Pixiesticks. They're usually mild natured, but they'll bite yeh if ya decide to be naughty or squeeze them too hard. Oh, and they don't like to be referred to as 'glowsticks'. You'll see why if yeh do."

Hagrid went around and distributed one Pixiestick per pair. Harry sat with Seamus and stared down at the  _stick_  of glowing light. Harry was tempted to prod it with his finger, but Seamus had already tried to do that and a set of jaws seemed to appear on the stick's length and attached itself painfully hard to Seamus' finger.

"Ow you little bugger!" Seamus cried, trying to shake the Pixiestick free. Harry decided that pulling it off would probably rip Seamus' skin, or worse,  _finger_  off, so he gently squeezed on the end of the stick and it pried itself off Seamus.

Only to snap at him second later.

"Whoops. That's a nasty one yeh got. Here, have another," Hagrid looked sheepish as he snatched up the 'bad' one and threw it into the cage with the rest and gave them one that was rose in colour. Harry and Seamus exchanged looks. They were  _not_  going to touch that  _thing_  again after the last fiasco.

The Pixiestick trembled and then remarkably, morphed into what looked like a fairy. It sat down on its little rear and began to wail. Harry and Seamus looked at each other, horrified. Those things sure could pack a lot of air in their tiny lungs. Harry scooped it up and gently stroked it with his finger. To his shock (and horror), the pixie shuddered and burst into glittery dust in Harry's hand.

His first reaction was to scream, the next being to fling the ashes into the air, but a heavy hand on Harry's wrists stopped any movement. Harry looked up in surprise as Hagrid gestured for Harry to pour the little dust into a tiny, velvet sack and then he tied it tightly before depositing it in Harry's hand.

"When Pixiesticks are ignored, they morph into Pixies. By this stage, yeh should try ter calm the pixie down and when it's content, it'll burst into pixie dust as a reward for making it happy," Hagrid explained as he handed Seamus a pale yellow one. Seamus watched it for a moment and then it morphed into a little pixie.

Seamus scooped it up like Harry did and tickled its belly gently. The pixie gave a cheerful giggle before it burst into glittery, yellow dust. Seamus excitedly poured the dust into his own little bag and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Just sprinkle some pixie dust on yerself and yeh should be happy and have good luck for the day. If yeh guys are good, I'll let yeh have a pixiestick at the end of every week," Hagrid grinned as the class chattered excitedly to themselves. "Okay, now down to the hard work. Yer homework will be to research the properties of pixiesticks and pixie dust. I want at least 6-inches on each, so that'll be a foot of parchment in total."

The bell could be heard from the grounds, so Hagrid dismissed the class and they went off, some of them already sprinkling pixie dust on themselves because they had potions with Snape next.

* * *

 

Night patrol again for Harry. He sighed as he prepared himself for a long night and met up with Professor Snape and the other students in the Entrance Hall as usual. This time, Snape decided he wanted know where each student was, including Harry, so he'd cast charms on each of them that would alert him if they were doing anything  _wrong._

Then the Greasy Git had sent him down into the dungeons, where the corridors were a labyrinth and the air was frigid cold. Snape was already aware of Harry's invisibility cloak and as loathe as he was to admit it, he found it extremely useful for when he sent Harry to unexpectedly round up any out of bed students.

There weren't students out every night, nor every week for that matter. It was usually rare that they would come across students, and it was usually the same repeat offenders most of the time.

Harry had left his invisibility cloak in his room, unfortunately, since he had to rush to come down from Gryffindor Tower again. Thankfully he wasn't late. Snape sneered at the five of them and sent them off in different directions, keeping an eye on Harry as the raven-haired boy disappeared down the entrance beside the marble staircase.

Harry paused and listened for any footsteps. None. Good. Snape was most likely going to go off in his own direction (he was usually around Gryffindor Tower, looking for any students that dare to sneak out – and he had an 80-something success rate too).

He pulled his robe around him tighter and shivered. Merlin, how could those Slytherins stand the bloody cold down here? It wasn't snowing, and that in itself, must have been a sign that the dungeons reached below zero, but to  _sleep_  down here?

Harry snorted. Being sorted into Slytherin was probably a punishment in itself. Harry continued down a corridor, taking a left and then a right, occasionally peeking through doors.

He was bored. There was obviously nothing here.

It wasn't until he decided to check the area near the Slytherin common room that he passed a nearby tapestry and was pulled behind it by a pair of hands. Harry let out an undignified squeak as he was pushed roughly against the wall and something  _hard_  was pressing into his groin. His head smacked painfully against the stone wall behind him and for a moment, he felt dizzy and lightheaded.

Soft lips coaxed his mouth open in a rough kiss and a slimy tongue wound its way into Harry's wet cavern. Harry gasped. It was male, for sure. He felt himself grow semi-hard. The muscles that flexed under Harry's hands were distinctively male – not too bulky, but firm and defined, like a Quidditch player.

Harry pulled away and gasped for air. It was too dark to even  _see_  who it was and he felt a thrill of fright and excitement thrum through his body. The hips ground harder against Harry's and the raven-haired boy moaned as he collapsed, boneless, against the wall as the figure held him upright.

" _Harry_ ," the voice hissed into his ear, his breath hot against Harry's sensitive skin. "I want you... fuck," the other boy whined as he began to slowly undulate against Harry's hips, driving him into the wall with a dominating force, "So hot...  _Harry_."

Harry shivered and swallowed as he felt the other boy move. He knew who this was. He had talked to him today, in potions.

And Harry made him get all hot and bothered. That thought alone caused Harry to harden even more and it was almost painful.

Zabini's hands sneaked under Harry's shirt, the rough, calloused pads of his fingers rubbing against the smooth, toned muscles there. Harry drew back to gasp for air and he pressed his hands against Zabini's chest to move away.

Honestly, if Harry were to enter a competition for strength, he wouldn't have even been considered. The resistance he put up was almost questionable.

"N-no, Za-Zabi-niiiii," Harry whined again and then moaned when the Slytherin's mouth went to his neck. "Uwaaah... st-stop. D-don't... ahh... do... mhnn... haaaaa... that! Nggh!"

A blinding flash of light illuminated the corridor, causing Zabini to shut his eyes and move away, covering his face with his arm.

Snape looked livid.

"Fifty points from Slytherin, Mr. Zabini. Twenty for being out after hours, and  _thirty_  for molesting a student. Mr. Potter, follow me." Snape turned on his heel and Harry cast an apologetic but confused glance at a shell-shocked Zabini before tucking his shirt back in and following Snape to his office.

 

* * *

 **TBC...** (I have ALWAYS wanted to write that!)

 

 **Rice-Ball247:** dun dun duuuuun! -holds breath- yeah, this chapter's been a long time coming. The only excuse I have is... that I graduated from hgih school and... was busy inbetween. I never got around to that rewrite and I'm kicking myself for it. Anyway, please  **review**  and make my day just a little bit brighter (but not hotter, please. I'm dying in this heat).


	10. Ron, the Pursued Decoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. They belong to J.K. Rowling. I make no profit.

_Last time..._

A blinding flash of light illuminated the corridor, causing Zabini to shut his eyes and move away, covering his face with his arm.

Snape looked livid.

"Fifty points from Slytherin, Mr. Zabini. Twenty for being out after hours, and  _thirty_  for molesting a student. Mr. Potter, follow me." Snape turned on his heel and Harry cast an apologetic but confused glance at a shell-shocked Zabini before tucking his shirt back in and following Snape to his office.

* * *

 

**Chapter Nine: Ron, the Pursued Decoy**

"You understand why you're here, Mr. Potter," Snape watched him with hooded eyes, his chin resting on his hands, which were braced together. It wasn't a question. Harry swallowed and realized that the top buttons of his shirt had somehow come undone.

Remembering the detention he'd had one time with Snape, which seemed so long ago, Harry grew uncomfortable nevertheless. He did up the buttons and checked himself over carefully to make sure that not a single aspect of his uniform was out of place – for his normal self, anyway.

"Yes, sir..." Harry trailed off, because really, he had  _no_  idea why he was here. Okay, he had  _some_  ideas, but he was expecting Snape to completely overlook the fact that he was the victim in that situation.

Snape's black eyes glittered in the dim candlelight as he stood to his full height and walked around the edge of his desk. Harry unconsciously took a step backwards. He just happened to look at the door and realized that it was closed tightly. Unlocked. But closed.

Harry swallowed nervously and decided to keep his eyes focused on the dead frog suspended in purple liquid just over Snape's shoulder, on the shelf behind his desk. Snape grew closer.

"Potter, what happened?" Snape asked softly as soon as he was within an arm's length away. Harry stared at his teacher for a moment before he glanced at what looked like a baby piglet submerged in orange gloop, in a jar.

Without realizing it, Snape's hand had reached out and gently touched Harry's shoulder and Harry jerked away, shying from the touch. "Um... sir, I'm really uncomfortable with... with anyone touching me at the moment..."

Snape's eyes seemed to darken and a look of understanding crossed his face before he sighed and his hand fell to his side. Harry hoped he hadn't offended his teacher, especially when he'd just taken away  _fifty_  points from his own house.

Snape turned away from Harry and retreated to his desk, his shoulders sagging slightly. Harry's eyebrows marred together in thought. Why did his professor look so... much older, and dejected?  _Was_  he offended?

"S-sir, if you're upset with me, I-"

Harry was swiftly interrupted by Snape's voice as he whirled around suddenly, his eyes wild and flashing with anger. "For heaven's sake, Potter, it's not you! It's never you!" he snapped before he realized that he'd just lost his cool and promptly tried to amend his error. "Mr. Zabini... is one of the more promiscuous students in my house, Potter. As Head Boy, you deserve at least  _some_  respect from the students, as you fail to do so with me."

Before Harry could open his mouth to protest, Snape continued with what would seem to turn out to be a long tirade.

"Your new contract that you signed stated that you would try to promote abstinence from sexual activity amongst students, as it is becoming a bother trying to pry students apart. You may not be privy to such information, but if you want to know how serious this is, there is already a Ravenclaw girl in her fifth year that is a month into her pregnancy. She had to be sent away, to her home, in order to spend time looking after herself," Snape gauged the shocked reaction on Harry's face. "She, I admit, was a smart student but her foolish fraternizing with her fellow schoolmates has led her down a path of destruction to her education. Tell me, Potter, if this were to happen to one of your friends, would you condone it?"

Harry swallowed then shook his head. Snape sneered, "I thought as much. That is why the situation is already out of control. We, the staff, are actually putting our faith in you, the leaders of our student body, to  _look after_  the well-being of the students. I had my doubts as to whether your group would be able to pull this off, but since there was no improvement with the teachers' intervention, it seemed that using the student voice would be more effective."

Harry remained silent and hung his head. Snape's voice returned, this time softer, but without malice, "You understand that the Wizarding world is  _much_  different than what you understand of the Muggle world, Potter. There are spells and potions that would be able to impregnate a barren woman," a pause, "or a  _man_."

Harry's head jerked up, his mouth hanging in shock. Snape was watching him carefully. "You have proved in previous years that you are capable of accessing my stores for your foolish little rendezvous with your friends," Snape stopped to glare at Harry, "and don't even bother trying to  _lie_  to me, Potter. If  _you_  were able to access my private stores for  _your_  pathetic attempts at potion making, I'm sure that the other students would have no troubles as well.  _Anyone_  would be able to slip an Impregnating Draught into your morning pumpkin juice, and then take advantage of you. You'll find yourself being shipped away from Hogwarts as well, with a baby or three on the way."

Harry's face had gone pale and he began to sweat nervously. Snape's eyes hardened and his lip curled with distaste.

"The charms that I cast on you alerted me to your guilt and hesitation. I had thought you were trying to let off...  _certain_  students for being out after hours, but I came to find you being..." Snape looked into Harry's eyes and the student felt his body grow warm, " _thoroughly_  ravished."

'N-no... why's my body reacting this way? This is Snape! Greasy Git!  _Bat_ man! Stupid teenage hormones!' Harry despaired as he felt his lower regions tingle with anticipation. It  _must_  have been as a result of Zabini's... ravishing.

Snape's lip curled but he pointed his wand at the door and it swung open. "Take your leave, Potter."

Harry had never felt so glad to leave his teacher's presence. But there was that lingering suspicion that Snape had been staring after his  _arse_  as he left. Harry shuddered and hurried up to his dorm – duties be damned.

* * *

"You're back early," Malfoy commented as Harry slid into their common room. The blond was checking between a book and his essay and then paused to scribble something down. "Afraid of Snape, Potter?"

"No," Harry grunted as he slid into the seat at his own desk and decided to get some last minute writing in before heading off to bed. He pulled out some books and what was his homework so far, and decided to work on his Pixiesticks research. Hermione had been kind enough to find a book or four on the properties of the magical creature during her dinner break, and Harry was grateful, as usual.

Behind him, he could hear Malfoy shift in his seat, the gentle rustling of parchment indicating that the other Head Boy was finished. But Malfoy didn't withdraw to his own room. Harry jotted down a few sentences that he'd paraphrased (Hagrid wouldn't check, fortunately) and listened for any sign of the Malfoy heir moving.

"Potter?"

"Mmm?" Harry responded absently as he scratched out an awkward-looking sentence before writing over the small gap in between. Malfoy was silent a moment before he spoke again.

"When... when do I give my present to R-Ron?" Harry noticed that Malfoy stumbled a bit over Ron's name but feigned ignorance anyway. He shrugged and dipped his quill into the ink and hesitated on what to write next. A minute later and he still hadn't given Malfoy an answer. " _POTTER!_ "

Harry jumped, causing a blotch of ink to ruin the spot where he'd been preparing to write. He sighed and wished that Hermione was there. Oh well. He turned around irritably and scowled, "What?"

"I asked you a question: When do I give my present to Weasley?" Malfoy snapped, looking thoroughly annoyed. Harry lifted a brow and Malfoy realized his mistake. "You're getting on my nerves, Potter..."

"Tomorrow, I guess," Harry told him and ignored what had been said as he studied Malfoy's blank expression. He noticed quicksilver eyes lingering somewhere on his chin before Harry turned back to his work. Malfoy sat in contemplative silence before he went back to his room and the door shut with a soft 'click'.

Harry sighed and glanced at the spot where Malfoy had been sitting, then touched his lips in wonder.

Blaise Zabini had probably given him the best snog of his life, but his heart hadn't raced like when Malfoy was pressed up against him. His head hit the table and he grumbled.

This wasn't good.

* * *

Draco watched as Potter continued to work on his homework in silence after he'd asked his question. A full minute later and Potter still hadn't responded.

When he snapped, Potter turned around and looked rather suspicious and Draco covered it up with an excuse.

"Tomorrow, I guess," was the only answer he received when Potter turned and faced him. Draco's eyes unconsciously drifted down to stare at Potter's pink lips. He hadn't noticed it before but the Golden Boy's lips were red and swollen, liked they'd been sucked and nibbled on in a recent snog session. He wasn't aware of Potter going out with anyone.

He must have had some sort of midnight rendezvous. But how? Surely Snape would have caught him? Unless... because Snape  _was_  after all...

Could he be?

Potter had turned back to his work before he could notice Draco's eyes widen in shock. Draco lifted a hand to touch Potter's shoulder, but as always, the Boy Who Lived was always,  _always_  just out of reach for Draco Malfoy. He bit back a sigh and stood to gather his homework before retreating to his rooms.

* * *

Harry made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning, when he realized there was a large crowd of students blocking the entrance. Being Head Boy had its privileges. Being Harry Potter had even more.

"What's going on here?" he demanded with conviction in his voice as he strode into the middle of it. The students parted like the sea to Moses as Harry made his way into the heart of what he presumed was a calamity.

But no.

It was Malfoy. And Ron.

It was Malfoy, in front of  _everyone_  giving the wrapped present  _to_  Ron. Ron's face had gone as red as his hair and he started to stutter. He glanced up and gave a nod to Harry as Malfoy began to recite the speech that Harry had advised him to work on a while back.

"I understand we've had our differences in the past, but I was sincerely hoping you would look past that and see the great guy that is in me. Here is but a small, unworthy token of my undying appreciation," Malfoy managed to get out without so much as breaking a sweat, or throwing up for that matter.

It was either really good acting on Ron's part, or he really  _was_ nervous by the fact that there were people around them staring; some in shock, others in amazement.

"Move along," Harry ordered to the still gaping students. "There's nothing to see here, so get into the hall and have your breakfasts."

There was mild protest before Malfoy barked that he would deduct twenty points from every student that didn't move their arses or listen. Harry flushed as they scowled at him and Malfoy, albeit with reluctance, moved off to the Great Hall.

Only a few stragglers were left behind, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, when really, they wanted to know what was going on. Harry waited until Ron and Malfoy turned to him and he had to 'pretend' to look shocked.

Because after all, Malfoy  _wasn't_  supposed to know that he'd told Ron.

"Okay, now  _I_  want to know what's going on here!" Harry demanded as he rounded on the both of them. He glared at Malfoy, who nodded, and Harry could see the relief in his eyes. Then he turned to Ron and gave him an expectant glare, as if he had just been betrayed. "Ron! How... how could you accept... a gift from  _Malfoy_?!"

In the background, Malfoy gave an indignant scoff and folded his arms across his chest, narrowing his eyes at Harry. Ron shifted uncomfortably, the pretty wrapping crinkling in his hands.

"Can... can we talk about this later, Harry? And somewhere more private?" Ron asked in a dropped whisper, his eyes darting between Malfoy and his best friend. Harry paused a moment before he nodded and stalked off into the Great Hall.

Malfoy didn't see the smirk that rested on Harry's lips.

'Excellent acting, Ron. I officially dub you the greatest thing since sliced bread!'

* * *

They got through breakfast as normally as possible. Harry was itching to know how it had happened, but Ron was reluctant to tell him with a crowd of people around them. Especially if there were people who were quite determined to know what was going on. After telling the sixth person to kindly 'piss off' in just the duration of their breakfast, Harry and Ron were getting quite tired and irritable.

"I think I should have time to run up to the Gryffindor dorms and put this in my trunk," Ron mumbled as they were leaving to get to their first class, which was Transfiguration. Harry volunteered to take it to his own dorm and store it in his room, because Gryffindor Tower was on the seventh level. Ron agreed and Harry sprinted off to take the package to his dorm.

When he was walking out of his room, Malfoy was checking through the stack of papers on his own desk, looking frustrated.

"Problem, Malfoy?" Harry asked nonchalantly, leaning against the wall as the blond threw down a particular heavy tome and turned around with a glare.

"You didn't take my homework, did you?" Malfoy scowled as he rounded on Harry with suspicious eyes. Harry shook his head. It wasn't that hard to tell Malfoy that he hadn't stolen his homework, because Harry was telling the truth.

And Malfoy, Harry deduced, had probably just misplaced it. "Is that it over there?" he asked, pointing to a roll of parchment that was wedged between the drawers of Harry's and Malfoy's desk.

"Potter," Malfoy sighed but didn't say anything after that, didn't even thank him. He shot Harry a look before he shook his head and left. Harry followed, on his way to catch up to Ron, when Malfoy suddenly turned and ran a hand through his hair, looking torn between being sick and nervous, and being relieved. "Thank you."

"For finding your homework? No problem," Harry quirked his lip as he edged past Malfoy to get down the staircase. He was halfway down it when he heard Malfoy's voice calling to him.

"No. Not for finding my homework, Potter," he replied, but by the time Harry had turned, Malfoy was already zooming away to whatever class he had next.

Okay...

* * *

Potions was their third class of the day. Harry felt his mind whirling around in his head as he passed the tapestry, where behind it, Zabini had pushed him up against the wall and...

His cheeks burned even darker when he realized that he and Zabini would be partners for the next fortnight. That meant seven more classes with him, eight if you counted the potions double. Which was today. Now.

He, Ron, and Hermione turned the corner to get to the Potions classroom, where students were already beginning to line up. The door was, as usual, locked. Snape had finally realized that he didn't want students in his classroom before class started because there was the risk of 'being involved in a dangerous potions accident for which he would be held liable, if he wasn't there'.

It almost made Harry tempted enough to hurt  _himself_  while in potions. But he wasn't that stupid.

As usual, the Gryffindors were huddled up on one side of the corridor, whereas the Slytherins stood in either pairs or single file on the other. Zabini was leaning against the wall, blatantly staring at Harry again; Malfoy stood beside him, looking a bit annoyed.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at Zabini, who smirked and made a biting motion with his teeth. Malfoy's eyebrows shot up when Harry poked his tongue out at Zabini playfully. He glanced between the two.

 _Obviously_ , he had missed something in the bigger picture.

By the time Snape had arrived, Zabini had given him a total of five heated looks (when he wasn't already staring at Harry), eight lewd hand gestures, and one wolf whistle when Harry stretched.

They made their way into the classroom and sat down in their designated seats. Snape was determined to get them to work on the Veritaserum base, to the point where they'd be able to do it in their sleep. Okay, maybe not to that extent, but so that they'd be able to brew the base without having to worry about how volatile the rest of the potion was.

Harry had realized that Zabini liked to put his hand around the backrest of his chair when he had leaned back after writing a few notes and felt a warm hand resting behind his neck. He glanced up at Zabini with an eyebrow raised but blushed when he met an intense gaze.

Memories of the night before flooded his brain and he tried desperately to not get aroused in the middle of potions.

"You may begin as soon as you are ready," Snape instructed and Harry berated himself when his groin gave a decidedly eager twitch.

Not good... not good!

"Potter, I'll cut the roots, you ground them," Zabini looked amused as he pulled a weird looking root towards them and began to chop finely. "Since there's lesser a risk if I do the precision work."

Harry didn't know why, but instead of scowling and glaring at the Slytherin like he would have done in most cases, with Malfoy and Snape especially, he merely pouted and turned his head the other way.

If one considered it... it almost looked rather playful.

* * *

If Weasley was blind to the obvious flirting that was going on between their two best friends, he was an idiot. A _blind_  idiot, at that.

How could no one  _not_  notice the looks and the touches between the two? Draco glared as Blaise picked up a mortar and pestle in one hand and grabbed Potter's hand with the other, pushing the equipment into the other boy's grasp. Both he and Potter started to drop slices of root into the mortar, before Potter grounded them up with the pestle.

Blaise seemed to  _like_  touching Potter. A lot. His hands had never left some aspect of the raven-haired boy. Well, aside from when his work demanded use of both hands. But otherwise, Blaise was always touching Potter.

While Potter ground up the roots, Blaise had one hand holding Potter's steady. When Potter poured the roots into a paper slip, Blaise was touching his hand, steadying it 'so that it measured out correctly'. When they'd gone through the entire preparation and adding ingredients process, Blaise had always been connected to Potter somehow.

Draco found he didn't like it when Blaise stood behind Potter and wrapped his arms around the boy so that he could hold the ladle as well, 'so that he'd be able to help Potter stir'.

Draco, as loathe as he was to admit it, knew that Potter wasn't an idiot and knew how to bloody damn well stir. What annoyed him was that Potter rarely shied away from Blaise's touches, and had only moved away once or twice.

Draco had to squash down some unknown sense of glee and triumph when Blaise looked a bit put out, but also had to bite back some insult that was about to spew forward when Potter allowed himself to be touched the majority of the time.

"Malfoy, you're chopping too thickly," Weasley's voice floated into his mind from somewhere to his left. And damn, he couldn't insult him, not without Weasley getting suspicious.

'For Hermione,' he reminded himself firmly as he gazed longingly at the back of her head while she worked alongside Pansy. 'This is all for Hermione... the plan is working because it's for Hermione!'

"Malfoy, your hand!" Weasley called out, his voice shaking and his eyes horrified. Draco hadn't even registered the stinging sensation when he'd been too busy admiring the back of Hermione's head.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see both Potter and Blaise whirl around, and surprisingly, it was Potter who ran over first.

"Let me see," he demanded roughly as he pulled Draco's hand to him. Snape was on his way, looking both irritated and concerned at the same time. "Just suck on it, Malfoy. It's a little cut."

He shot his best friend an amused look. Something told Draco that Weasley got sick at the sight of blood.

"I'm  _not_  putting my finger in my mouth," Draco told him stubbornly, "That's disgusting, Potter. Despite being a pureblood, someone like me would put a healing charm on..."

Draco's voice fizzled out at that moment. Because at that moment, Potter leaned down, bringing his finger upwards, and gently suckled on the tip of his cut finger. The class was  _well_  distracted now. Draco felt a little tingling – Potter was sucking gently, so it didn't suddenly sting or anything.

And why wasn't he pulling his hand away in disgust? He told himself that he was merely shocked and  _not_  because he might have secretly liked it. And enjoyed rubbing it in Blaise's face, too.

"So would you require a healing charm or are you quite okay to work on as it is?" Snape's voice interjected into the situation, sounding rather miffed. "Mr. Zabini, Mr. Potter, return to your workstation."

* * *

Harry glanced up at Snape's scowling face, Malfoy's finger still caught between his wet lips. For a moment, Snape's expression seemed to falter and a light dusting of pink settled on his cheeks before he barked at them to get a move on.

Harry let go of Malfoy and returned to his desk, completely unaware of the glares that both Zabini and Snape had shot at Malfoy.


	11. Hermione’s Pursuit, Draco’s Broken Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. They are the work of J.K. Rowling and I make no profit.

_Last time..._

Harry glanced up at Snape's scowling face, Malfoy's finger still caught between his wet lips. For a moment, Snape's expression seemed to falter and a light dusting of pink settled on his cheeks before he barked at them to get a move on.

Harry let go of Malfoy and returned to his desk, completely unaware of the glares that both Zabini and Snape had shot at Malfoy.

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Hermione's Pursuit and Draco's Broken Heart**

"I'm reaching my breaking point," Draco muttered angrily to Blaise, who was lounging on the couch beside him. They were currently in the Slytherin common room, which was almost devoid of life, aside from them and a few other students who were working in quiet corners.

"Whatever for?" Blaise asked casually, inspecting his nails before flicking a bit of lint off the hem of his robes. Draco shot him a glare.

"Maybe this thing about wooing the weasel was the wrong way of going about this," Draco sighed as he stretched and crossed his legs. "It's been two weeks since I gave the weasel his chess set, and a box of chocolates, and that Weasley Wizard Wheezes 'must have' prank set. Remind me again why I bought that, since Weaselbee is their brother?"

Blaise shrugged and looked uninterested. "I don't know, Draco. That was  _your_  twisted logic, if you remember, not mine."

Draco scowled and tried to get comfortable. "I just don't... argh! Look, I'm not interested in Weasley whatsoever, Blaise. Remember, I'm just trying to get him to loosen up so that I can manipulate his puny brain into giving me information about Hermione _AND_  while that happens, he can also tell Hermione what a nice guy I've been and then Hermione will look at me and realize that I'm great."

Something that sounded suspiciously like, 'since when do you think you're not?' left Blaise, but Draco ignored it. Draco's hands unconsciously played with a fraying thread on his robes. Must get that fixed, he reminded himself.

"Blaise?" Draco began, glancing sidelong at his best friend. Blaise didn't look at him, but hummed in response to show that he was listening. "Do you seriously like Potter? Like, like-like him?"

Blaise didn't answer the question but the sincere smile that tugged on the corner of his lips was enough of a response for Draco. His heart sank to the pits of his stomach when Blaise smiled.

Over the past two weeks, Potter and Blaise hadn't become friends, per se, but they'd formed some kind of weird truce. They insulted each other, but rarely, and even then, the weapons in the form of words had been quite weak. But occasionally, they'd walk together to classes outside of potions, smiled at each other from across the Great Hall and were quite happy to be in each other's presence when Draco decided that he wanted his best friend over for visits.

So he did his best to make sure that Potter and Blaise were nowhere near each other when he had the power to do so. He'd stopped inviting Blaise over, opting instead to go down to the Slytherin common room to chat to his best friend so that Blaise wouldn't get  _too_  suspicious.

Blaise stood suddenly and thanked Draco for reminding him of something. "What?"

The dark-skinned boy gave him a lopsided grin, and it looked  _goofy_  of all things, before he blurted out, "I'm going to see Potter. We're going to work on our essay now."

Oh and  _thanks_  to Snape, for not only assigning them partners for the fortnight, but for the rest of term as well. Any potion making that required partners would be done with the assigned pairs. Any essays that were to be submitted as a twin effort would be done  _in partners_.

He wasn't sure if this was Snape's plan for torturing the Gryffindors (since Potter and Blaise, and surprisingly, Hermione and Pansy, were getting along quite amiably), or Dumbledore's scheme for 'inter-house unity'.

"I'll come with you," Draco stood to follow Blaise but was instantly rejected. Blaise looked panicked for a moment.

"N-no! You don't have to worry. We're working on our potions essay in the library."

"The Weasel will always be with the Scarhead, Blaise. Let's go."

Again, Blaise was hesitant and adamant about having Draco stay. "Weasley isn't going to be there. Potter and I planned this time to be on our own."

Draco's eyebrow shot up. "What if Hermione is there?"

Blaise looked as if his milk had gone sour. If Draco mentioned Hermione Granger, there was no stopping him from going then. Blaise gave one last, half-hearted attempt at having Draco stay ("Wouldn't the Mudblood be working with Pansy?") but Draco was already out the doors and heading towards the library, ready to intervene.

* * *

Harry drummed his hands on the table in a quiet corner of the school library, waiting for Zabini –  _Blaise_ , he corrected himself – to show up. He'd already gotten the required books on the properties of certain plants that were debatable for using in Veritaserum (this was obviously the topic of the essay) and was now waiting for his 'lab partner' as he and Hermione liked to call them.

Minutes later, Blaise showed up, looking rather put out. Harry opened his mouth to ask him why he looked so annoyed, before he realized that Malfoy was following behind him.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Blaise, but the Slytherin shook his head and sat down beside Harry. Malfoy took the seat opposite them.

"Ron's not here, Malfoy," Harry pointed out to the blond, who simply glared back. "He decided to hang out with Seamus, Dean, and Neville while I was gone."

"I'm not visually impaired, Potter," was the scathing reply, "unlike  _some_  people."

Blaise shot his best friend a half-hearted glare of sorts and then turned his chair so that he was sitting impossibly closer to Harry. As usual, his arm was resting on the back of Harry's chair.

"I think we should start with the plants that cause the most controversy," Harry suggested, opening a bookmarked page on plants to show the magical properties of the mythical herb, 'moly'. "They would have the most to write about."

Blaise nodded and he and Harry took turns writing on the parchment about why certain plants were suitable for usage in Veritaserum, but reacted badly with other added ingredients.

" _The use of the mythical herb, moly, would be an ideal addition to the early stages of the Veritaserum potion due to its omnipotent magical properties. However, due to its adverse affects to high temperatures, the moly herb would, without a doubt, cause the volatile Veritaserum to explode in even the safest of circumstances_ ," Harry read off what he'd just written to Blaise, who nodded then took the quill.

" _However, only the white flowers of the moly herb are the cause of such a violent reaction. The black roots, which are known for having nullifying effects, would cancel out the strength of the Veritaserum's length of usage, but when combined with the white flowers, will increase the Veritaserum's power doubly._ "

"How'd you know that?" Harry asked curiously as he read over Blaise's notes. Blaise gave him a secret smile.

"I dabble in potions occasionally. Knocked myself unconscious for about a week or two during the last summer break, but I found out enough to make a note of it," Blaise grinned, moving his hand away from Harry's chair to settle on Harry's thigh instead.

Across the table, Malfoy, who had taken to reading one of the books Harry had found, narrowed his eyes when Harry shot Blaise a shocked look. He went back to reading, but peered at them occasionally.

Blaise continued to write about his discoveries, which Harry was sure that Snape would be proud of, but below the table, he had taken to inching closer and closer to Harry's groin. Harry stiffened and quickly intercepted Blaise's hand, grabbing it with his own.

From beneath Blaise's fringe, Harry could see the small twitch of a smile forming while the boy mouthed out whatever he was writing. Harry smiled to himself and glanced away as a blush formed on his cheeks.

Beneath the table, Blaise entwined his fingers with Harry's.

Harry didn't move away.

* * *

"Harry, stop smiling like that. You're scaring me," Ron quipped as Harry, for the umpteenth time the next evening, spaced out and grinned. Ron had to call Harry to attention many more times before the raven-haired boy even glanced at his friends.

"Hmm?" Harry glanced up, eyebrows raised and his eyes dreamy, "What do you think about potions? I think I'll be a Potions Master, like Snape..."

Ron and Hermione exchanged panicked glances. "Harry, err... are you alright in the head?  _You_ want to be a Potions Master like that git?" Ron looked almost offended. He suspected that Harry was drooling at the thought of it. "Harry, stop that!"

"Hmm?" he glanced up again, blinking owlishly at his two best friends. "Of course I'm alright," he scoffed, "just... thinking... what if I was good at potions? Do you think I'd like to dabble in it?"

Hermione looked torn between concerned and ecstatic, and not necessarily for the fact that Harry took a sudden interest in his potion studies. "Harry, did anything happen between you and Snape, or something?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope."

"Then?"

Harry grinned and turned to Ron. "Hey, Ron, ask me how I am!"

Ron blinked back at Harry, feeling a certain dread fill his stomach. "Err... how are you, Harry?"

"I'm great!" Harry proved this by jumping to his feet and spinning in a full circle before giving them a dizzy looking curtsey. "Now ask me why I'm happy!"

"Um...  _why are_  you happy, Harry?" Ron asked hesitantly, sparing a look at Hermione before glancing back to his best friend.

Harry winked at Ron and gave him a pout, then with a cutesy voice, giggled, "S-E-C-R-E-T! "

Ron's eye twitched but he didn't say anything after that. He gave Hermione a weak smile. Well... at least Harry was happy...

"Now ask me if I'm going to tell you my secret!" Harry grinned, pushing himself closer to Ron's face. Ron withdrew awkwardly and asked, "Are you going to tell us your secret?"

Harry waggled his eyebrows and barked with laughter. "Of course not!"

Sighing, Ron reminded Harry that he had to meet with Blaise in a minute and Harry looked perfectly scandalized. Before they could even open their mouths, Harry was dashing out the portrait hole.

Ron blinked at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room and then peered at the distance that Harry had just torn across. "Is that... smoke?"

Hermione shook her head. "What's gotten into him?"

Ron grimaced and turned back to read his Quidditch magazine, which he had been doing before Harry had come up to visit them that evening. "Honestly, 'Mione, I don't think even  _we_  want to know."

* * *

 

Harry panted as he arrived at the library, already five minutes late for his study session with Blaise. The Slytherin in question was sitting at their usual spot and waved Harry over. Harry grinned and darted in his direction.

"Harry," Blaise greeted him with a warm squeeze to the Gryffindor's hand. Harry squeezed back in response and dropped into the seat beside Blaise. "Professor Snape pulled me aside to talk to me in the corridor, so you're not that late. I just arrived as well."

Harry glanced at the table and realized that Blaise hadn't unpacked their books yet. "So what did he want?"

"To award you and me credit," Blaise gave Harry a smirk as shock passed over the other boy's face.

"C-credit? For me as well?" Harry looked like a cross between shocked and amazed. "Have I suddenly been thrust into the twilight zone?"

Blaise gave an amused snort. "No, you haven't. Snape was surprised by the moly theory that we put together. You know how you mentioned that brewing in a crystal cauldron can magnify the powers of potion ingredients?"

"Hermione told me that," Harry told him with a lazy smile, "But anyway, do go on."

"Snape said that it would be risky, since brewing in a crystal cauldron tends to make volatile potions  _extremely_  delicate, but if we balance out the ingredients correctly, we might just be able to create a Veritaserum that's tenfold stronger than the one that exists now," Blaise informed him, looking rather pleased. Harry blinked and then a wide grin spread over his face.

"Does this mean he'll stop picking on me in class?" Harry chirped hopefully, causing Blaise to laugh.

"Probably not," Blaise patted Harry's hair with a hint of reverence in his touch, "But I'll be there for you, so don't worry."

In that instant, a red blush grew in Harry's cheeks and seemed to flow all the way down his neck to his body. Blaise quirked an eyebrow and laughed. "Are you blushing, Mr. Potter?"

Harry snorted, which was surprisingly confident for himself, "Shut up, Mr. Zabini."

They exchanged grins and set to work on not only potions homework, but other work received from numerous other classes as well.

"What's up with Malfoy?" Harry asked when they were halfway through their Transfiguration work. Blaise's head snapped up and he regarded Harry almost icily.

"What do you mean?" his voice was almost accusatory. Harry didn't catch onto the tone, however, and continued.

"He's gotten... a little touchy lately," Harry spoke with trepidation, as if he wasn't sure he should be having this conversation with Malfoy's best friend of all people.

"Touchy? Since when is he  _not_  being irritable?" Blaise snorted, folding his arms across his chest as he raised an eyebrow. Harry shrugged.

"You have a point, there. But shouldn't you be worried about him? Like yesterday when we went back to our dorm, he just snarled at me all of a sudden and went to his room and slammed the door so hard that the entire room vibrated!" Harry blurted out, gnawing on his bottom lip. Blaise gave him a wry smile and leaned over to peck his lips gently.

Harry's cheeks flushed and he began to stutter out incoherent sentences. Blaise patted his cheek lightly and grinned. "Draco can take care of himself, Harry. You only need to worry about me."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and shut up. He gave Blaise a shy smile and they went back to work, all thoughts of Draco Malfoy and his princess-complex forgotten.

Harry had become so distracted with thoughts of one Blaise Zabini that he'd almost forgotten about his ploy to humiliate Draco Malfoy. It hadn't occurred to him that he hadn't given anymore thought to his plotting when Ron brought the subject up two afternoons later.

* * *

 

"So what's going on with Malfoy? Has he stopped wooing me?" Ron joked as he and Harry made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. Hermione had made a grab for a few bites of whatever they were serving before making a mad dash to the library for studying. Apparently, she was 'falling behind' again.

"What do you mean, Ron?" Harry raised an eyebrow as they slipped into the Great Hall and found empty seats halfway down the Gryffindor table. Ron was barely seated for a second before he started to grab food.

"He hasn't looked at me or spoken to me outside of Potions," Ron added through a bite of chicken, then hastily added, "Not that I want him to, mate. Just telling you so you know."

"Ah..." Harry nodded absently and found his eyes floating over to the Slytherin table. Malfoy was actually talking to Blaise, which was good, in that they were still friends. Lately, their friendship seemed a bit rickety and he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why.

Perhaps he could persuade Blaise to 'join their side' if things between him and Malfoy got too sour?

"Earth to Harry, come in Harry!" came Ron's dream-like voice. Well, it sounded like he was in a dream, anyway. There was a hand waving in front of his face. He snapped back to reality.

"What?" Harry blinked and glanced around. Ron was already halfway through his lunch. He glanced down at his plate and saw a rather... strange mash of food that he surmised had once been his lunch, before he'd unconsciously tore it to pieces with his knife and fork.

"You've been staring at the Slytherins for a long time now," Ron told him, sounding slightly miffed. "If you're trying to cast a spell, try to seem a little more discreet, because Zabini is staring at you too."

Harry looked away from Ron and glanced back at the Slytherin table. Indeed, Blaise was staring at him. Harry's lips quirked upwards when he was sure that Ron had gone back to eating and talking to him without looking up.

Blaise made a show of vulgarly sucking the grease off his fingers from whatever he'd just eaten. Harry's cheeks burned brightly.

"Harry? Harry, you're staring again! Merlin, Harry! Is that drool?"

* * *

"You ignored my question earlier," Ron told him as they walked to Gryffindor Tower after lunch. They had a free period appear on their timetable suddenly, so, thankful for their missed class of Potions, they made their way to Gryffindor Tower to rest. It was their last class of the day, anyway, but Harry suspected that Professor Snape  _wasn't_  sick, and it had more to do with Death Eater duties than anything.

"What question?" Harry asked as they arrived at the portrait hole, said "Pixiesticks," and walked through when the Fat Lady's portrait swung open. They clambered through and ran over to the couch before any other students could take it.

Ron gave him an irritated look as they flopped down onto the seat. "You  _know_  what I'm talking about, Harry."

"No seriously, what question?" Harry replied, looking slightly confused and annoyed that he didn't know what was going on.

"I... at lunch, I asked you what's going on with Malfoy?" Ron took a cushion from the couch they were sitting on and gently whacked Harry atop the head with it before resting it under his armpit. Harry gnawed on his bottom lip, causing Ron to stare at him suspiciously.

"I don't know," Harry answered slowly, "If I did, I'd set him straight, but seriously Ron, there's something wrong with him," at Ron's derisive snort, he added, "more than usual."

Ron wasn't satisfied with the answer and pushed for more. "Not that I'm concerned with the stupid git, Harry, but I've noticed he's stopped hanging out with Zabini, and no, it's not because of you, I reckon. And he's staring at Hermione a  _lot_  more often now, and it's  _scary_. And he's really... I dunno, just  _weird_  in Potions."

"Weird how?" Harry asked as he started to nibble on one of his nails. Ron sighed and pulled the pillow out from under his arm and placed it behind his head, leaning back against it.

"Well... that time you sucked him off," Ron stopped when Harry gave him a glare and he quickly rephrased it, "I mean, that time he cut his finger... that's  _never_ happened in the seven years that we've been here, Harry. He's really jittery, like, more than ferret jittery and he's losing his cool."

"Maybe the plan is working," Harry shrugged, flashing Ron a grin which wasn't returned. His excitement faded when Ron looked at him seriously.

"Harry, I don't think it's because of the plan. There's... I dunno. It just seems like there's something  _really off_. I suggest you try to talk with him to get some info on what's going on," Ron suggested, looking a bit uneasy. His face had gone pale and he shifted again. "I just have this weird feeling. It's not a bad feeling, which is good, but it's not a good feeling, which means that something is going to happen."

"Usually when something happens and I'm involved, it's a bad thing, Ron," Harry pointed out dryly as Ron finally cracked a smile. "Maybe we're just being paranoid."

"Yeah, mate. Maybe..."

* * *

If Draco Malfoy had to be known for something aside from his name, his personality, or his intelligence, it was for his marble-sculpted looks. The blond Slytherin was  _extremely_  attractive, to the point where most who loathed him hated him even more for being so disgustingly beautiful in a masculine aristocratic sense.

But it looked as if even looks were failing him as he stared into his bathroom mirror with a hint of disdain. The beauty products that he applied on a daily basis to keep his skin smooth and supple lay untouched on the countertop. There were dark bags under his eyes, indicating lack of sleep and he had a feeling that if he didn't start taking care of himself, there would be a pimple breakout very soon.

Grimacing, he washed his face carefully and applied the beauty products half-heartedly. There was just...

He didn't know what it was but he felt oddly depressed for no reason that he could understand. Maybe it was because he couldn't get Hermione to look at him, much less talk to him, again.

Every time he'd try, he'd always lose his nerve. And every time he did, he always insulted her. He felt like such a childish brat; glaring at his reflection, Draco sneered.

Something was wrong and he couldn't, for the life of him, put a finger on it.

He sucked in a breath and splashed water on his face, then pat dried his skin. Tomorrow, he told himself with conviction, tomorrow, he'd go to Hogsmeade, get Hermione an expensive gift and start to woo  _her_  the proper way, Potter and Weasley be damned.

Yet something in his nerves twitched at the thought of Potter. It just didn't sit right with him. He swallowed.

'No. Tomorrow. Forget about what Potter is doing, ignore Potter for now. Just focus on Hermione. Yes... Hermione... '

* * *

"Malfoy's being a prat," Harry told Blaise as they sat at their usual table in the library on Friday night. Blaise had his head bent, working furiously on something from Charms and didn't look up from his work. The only indication he gave to Harry, to show that he had heard, was a soft grunt. "More than usual, Blaise."

Blaise snorted and continued to write, his eyebrows furrowing. Harry watched as the Slytherin's tongue poked out adorably in thought. Harry rested his head atop his books and he felt Blaise's hand twitch in his.

Harry could safely say that he and Blaise were friends. They didn't seem like  _close_  friends to everyone else, but he and Blaise did things that he and Ron wouldn't dare do. Like hold hands under the table when they did their homework, which was what Harry and Blaise were doing now.

"Do your work," Blaise told him with a small smile before turning back to his homework. He made to tug his hand away but Harry gripped it tighter and held it in his left so that he could write with his right hand.

Something that everyone else didn't know – Blaise Zabini was very affectionate when he wanted to be. Either that or he was only affectionate to Harry. He gave Harry a reassuring squeeze under the table as he worked silently. Harry responded with the like.

"I am," Harry whispered back. Minutes later, Blaise dropped his quill with a satisfied and relieved sigh and sat back in his chair, still holding Harry's hand.

"Harry?"

Harry hummed to show that he was listening, but continued to write. Blaise paused a moment before he lifted their held hands and pressed a soft kiss to Harry's knuckles. "Tomorrow's a Hogsmeade day. If you don't mind being seen with a Slytherin, be sure to give me a call."

Harry lifted his head from his homework and gave Blaise a lazy, lopsided kind of smile. "Are you asking me to go with you to Hogsmeade tomorrow, Blaise?"

Blaise returned the smile and nodded, staring intently at Harry. Harry could feel his cheeks grow warmer by the second, but the smile on his face made him feel much more confident.

"Yeah, okay."

"Great, Harry," Blaise leaned in and pressed his lips lightly against Harry's before drawing away quickly.

Another thing that most people didn't know – Blaise liked to kiss his friends, and he didn't seem to care when he did it. That must have said something about Malfoy, considering they were best friends.

Harry's mind kept drifting over to Malfoy. Blaise hadn't even commented on him, Harry realized. Before he could ask a question again, Blaise yawned and detached his hand from Harry's, giving him a small smile.

"I'm going now, Harry. I'll see you tomorrow morning," Blaise reminded him, "Err... you don't mind being alone with me, do you?"

Well, Harry hadn't exactly made plans with Ron or Hermione. Usually when there was a Hogsmeade weekend, they'd just go, no questions asked. Looks like he'd have to tell them tomorrow, since after hours was rapidly approaching and it wasn't his turn for night patrol.

"So like a date or something?" Harry raised an eyebrow with an amused smirk. Blaise leaned down so that his face was close to Harry's. Harry leaned forward, expecting a kiss, but instead, Blaise whispered, "Or something," against his lips and walked away, his bag slung over his shoulder.

Harry stared at his retreating back before glancing at his finished homework. Might as well head off to bed.

* * *

Draco was determined. And when he was determined, he would use his Slytherin ambition and wit to get what he was so avid in owning.

Hermione's heart.

He was almost envious for the fact that Potter had an invisibility cloak. It would be so much easier to ambush the girl and then confess, instead of having to follow her around like a love-sick puppy, waiting for her red-headed guard dog to leave.

And  _where_  was Potter? Not that Draco was complaining. It meant that he had less trouble to deal with and as much as he hated to admit it, Potter was a lot more trouble than Weasley, and a lot harder to deal with, too. But Weasley was more annoying...

Draco slapped his forehead. Back on task! He glanced around surreptitiously and noticed that the bushy-haired brunette in question was heading to the post office to mail something. She didn't have an owl of her own. For a moment, Draco contemplated if she would like an owl. They were certainly useful when need be.

"Ron, where did Harry say he was going, again?" Hermione asked as she checked the tag on her package and made sure that there were no rips in the brown paper wrapping. In his own hand, Draco held a small, wrapped package of his own – a gift. Weasley looked deep in thought for a moment before he scowled, punching one fist into a palm.

"Oh yeah, Zabini asked him out."

Draco froze. What. What. WHAT?

He felt a hot, prickling sensation scour over his skin, as if he'd been burned by the sun and his insides were being tortured by something short of the Cruciatus Curse. His throat closed up tightly and his heart pounded so hard in his chest that he could hear its constant thrumming in his ears, feel it throbbing in his throat.

His vision had gone blurry and it was hard to make out Hermione from Weasley because his eyes had glassed over with tears.

What...

Angered, he wiped them hastily on his sleeve and bit his bottom lip to draw the pain away from whatever it was he felt on his body.

Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. In his head, he repeated the name like a mantra, chanting it over and over again to remind him why he was here.

But it only left a dull echo in his mind the more he thought about it.

Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. Hermione...

"Why is he going with Blaise Zabini?" Hermione asked Weasley as they stood just outside the post office. "You're waiting here, right?"

"Yeah. And I guess he went with Zabini because he likes him. I dunno. Don't ask me for the details of his love life, 'Mione," Weasley sighed as he ran a hand through his red locks.

Unknown to Draco, he felt his eyes well up again. Damn. He must have gotten something stuck in his eye. Dust, perhaps? And why was his chest throbbing like that? He punched it to see if the pain would detract from whatever he felt on the inside. It only added more pain.

"Actually, I'm going to visit Fred and George. You don't mind, do you, 'Mione? Their shop gets really full on a Hogsmeade visit and I want to see them before the day ends," Weasley joked as Hermione nodded her assent.

Weasley left and Draco took the chance. When he realized that he looked presentable enough to go up to her, he followed her into the post office.

He kept his eyes only on her, determined to give the present of his adoration to the one girl he thought was worthy enough of receiving it. Hermione talked to the owner for a moment before they gave her an express owl and she tied the package to its powerful claws. She didn't pen a note, as usual, because she was always prepared and had done that beforehand.

When she went to pay, Draco came up to her.

"Hermione," the name rolled off his tongue easily, having said it many times in front of his mirror when Potter wasn't looking. He'd said it many times to his mirror at home, to Blaise, in his head, to himself – it wasn't that hard to talk to her, but only speaking her name caused his throat to close up again. "Err..."

"Ah, Malfoy, I wanted to talk to you," Hermione gave him a small smile and glanced around before she took him by the elbow and dragged him out with surprising force.

"Me, too," Draco told her as soon as they had stepped out of the post office. They walked together for a bit, Draco's heart pounding in his chest. This was it. This was his time to... to confess to the girl who'd been plaguing his thoughts for months now!

"You go first," Hermione insisted as they stopped outside Weasley Wizard Wheezes, where he supposed Weasley was at that moment. She glanced inside the store and Draco followed their gaze to see the small shop bustling with business. It was hard to even make out the famous red hair of the Weasley clan.

"I insist, you go," Draco told her, trying to be the perfect gentleman. Hermione bit her bottom lip.

"No, I think you should go first. I want to hear what you have to say, because I don't want to drive you away with whatever I need to ask of you," she said, looking him straight in the eye to let him know that she meant business.

Draco nodded numbly and reached into his robes to pull out the gift. Hermione, thinking that he was reaching for her wand, edged away slightly. He chuckled lightly. "I'm not going to get my wand," he pulled out the neatly wrapped gift and grabbed her hand before pressing it into her grip, "This is for you."

"For me?" Hermione looked bewildered, her chocolate brown eyes widening so that she looked like a doe. "What for, Malfoy?"

Draco sucked in a breath. "And please call me Draco..." then he shut his eyes and blurted out, "I like you."

Hermione didn't say anything for a long moment and by the time Draco had opened his eyes, she looked a little suspicious, yet relieved at the same time.

"Look Mal- Dra-Draco," Hermione began, stumbling over his name because it sounded so foreign having to address him by his first name. Draco's heart dropped down to his stomach. He  _knew_  that tone and he knew it well. This hurt more than the time that Potter had rejected his offer of friendship in their first year. "I...  _like_  someone else. I don't mean to sound cruel or anything, but you and I  _really_  don't match. We're too different."

"How are we different?" Draco exclaimed, looking on the verge of hysterics. He gestured wildly between the two of them. "We... we're smart," he finished lamely.

Hermione heaved a sigh and smiled down at the gift in her hands. She moved it from one hand to the other before gripping it firmly in both. "Draco, you and I haven't even been on friendly terms since our first year. I don't know how you could possibly like me."

"I  _do_  like you," Draco insisted, grabbing her shoulders as if it would prove the point and get it through that infamous, Gryffindor thick-headedness. Not that he thought Hermione was thick-headed, of course. "Hermione, I've liked you since last year, and all I could think about since last summer is you!"

Hermione looked shocked for a moment as Draco held her shoulders as if he was frightened she would either disappear or run away. "Draco..."

"I like you. I tell myself that I shouldn't, because Weasley and Potter would hunt me down and kill me if I did, but I can't take it any longer. The Christmas holidays are starting up soon and I want to know if you'd possibly like me back, so that I can rest at ease while I'm away from you," Draco blurted out, feeling his stomach flip and flop inside him. He'd never been so nervous in his life.

Hermione looked as if she would be sick – not in the mean way, but this situation was really undesired. She waited for Draco to catch his breath from his rant and then gave him a weak smile.

"Draco, please understand that what you feel for me is not that kind of like. You're probably thinking of something else and it's deluding you from who you really should have eyes for," she took the chance to slip out of Draco's weakened grasp. "I can't accept this, Draco. Please take it back."

"So... so that's it?" Draco watched her carefully, his heart breaking in his chest. It couldn't just... just  _end_  like this! He felt as if he hadn't even said half the things that he needed to get across to her!

Hermione nodded and reached out to pat his shoulder lightly, but awkwardly. She didn't want to give him any false hope by hugging him. "Draco, you know, you can be a really nice guy when you want to be. Today just proved that for a fact. I know you probably don't want to hear this, but I think a friendship between you and I would be of benefit to the both of us."

Draco stared at her as if she'd grown a second head. All the thoughts of admiring her from afar reminded him that he wouldn't mind being in her presence all the time, even if it meant  _only_ being her friend.

"Anyone who wouldn't want to date you would be missing out," Hermione mused as she studied him. Before Draco could open his mouth to point out that she was contradicting herself, she added, "But I have my eyes on someone else, Draco."

His face fell and he felt the gift being pushed back gently into his suddenly cold hands. "Is it Weasley? Or Potter?"

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Ron. I like Ron. And I think he likes me back. And I'd be willing to wait until he and I graduate, if that's how long it would take to worm my way into his heart."

Draco looked stunned for a moment before he tucked the gift back into his robes and held out his hand. "Friends then?"

Hermione's sullen face morphed into a beatific smile and she grabbed his hand before pulling him into a hug. "Friends."

He wrapped his arms around her awkwardly and patted her back. He didn't know why but he suddenly felt... relieved? Who on  _earth_  would feel relief after being rejected?

"So what did you have to tell me?" Draco asked as soon as they pulled away. Hermione looked nervous again and she gestured for him to follow her further away from WWW. They stopped a good distance away, nearer to The Three Broomsticks.

"It's about Harry," she began, wringing the black material of her robes with her hands. She breathed and then glanced up at Draco. "And your friend, Blaise."

Draco felt his heart plummet again. He suddenly felt like a weight had been dropped on top of him; or like a rope had been tied around his torso and was constricting his chest. "W-what about Potter and Blaise?"

Hermione gave him a knowing look. "They've been hanging around a lot more often, together. Ron and I hardly see him in the afternoons and evenings and I know for a fact that he isn't in your dorms because we always see him holding hands with Blaise in the library."

Draco did a double take. "Holding _hands_?" He couldn't help it. It was a defence mechanism for him and he spat out an insult that was more for Blaise than anyone else. "They need each other  _that_  badly?"

Hermione shot him an annoyed look that wasn't hard to deal out, especially after six years of hating each other. "Draco, I need you to look at this from a mature and level-headed perspective. I know the thought of Blaise dating 'The Boy Who Lived'," she used air quotes with her fingers, "makes you sick, but I need to know if Harry's going to get hurt by dating him."

Draco gave her a dubious look. " _Dating?_  Last I knew, they were just study buddies, nothing more."

Hermione sighed and gestured to The Three Broomsticks. For a moment, Draco thought that she wanted to go with him to get a butterbeer or something, until he saw two familiar faces who were sitting opposite each other in a window seat. They were drinking butterbeers and, as Draco looked further, their hands were joined under the table.

"They're on a date, Draco. I didn't want to believe it at first, but then I realized all the signs had to be pointing to  _somewhere_. I was suspicious at first, but he started calling him by his first name and defending him and getting all spaced out-"

"When does he  _not_?" Draco snorted out of instinct. Hermione shot him a reprimanding look and he apologized. "So what do you want me to do? Go up to Blaise and demand that they break up?"

'Because I would be more than happy to,' Draco thought without voicing it out loud. He wasn't sure if he wanted to do this to spite Potter because his own happiness had been taken away now that he was most definitely rejected, or because...

Of something else.

He ignored the little tingle in his chest and glanced back to Hermione again, forcing himself to look away.

Hermione looked indignant. "Of course not! I just need you to find out if Blaise has good intentions for Harry, or if this is going to be nothing more than some weird fling that you Slytherins seem to like."

"I'll have you know that ' _us Slytherins'_  aren't the stereotypes that you like to set for us," Draco replied hotly, "And just so that you can tell everyone else,  _no¸_ we don't spend our time kicking puppies and burning the tails off kittens because we take perverse pleasure in watching them wither and whine."

Hermione shot him a disgruntled look but Draco continued. "I think Blaise actually does like Harry," he finally sighed. But his mind was screaming 'NO! No, no, no, no, NO!'

Defeated, he turned back to the small pub, just in time to see Blaise pull their hands out from under the table and press his lips to Harry's upturned palm. Harry blushed and gave the boy a shy smile.

"I..." Draco found it hard to find words that would get his thoughts across without incorporating his feelings at all. "I think we should leave them to find their own mistakes and happiness. Let them find out if they're good for each other, or not."

"Right..." Hermione cast a dubious look back to the pair drinking butterbeer together then sighed and made to go back to the Weasleys' store. "Well, if you decide to see through whatever is blinding you from who you really like," again, she brought that up and Draco couldn't understand why, "I think you should put that gift you have to good use," she finished and nodded at the gift that was hidden under his robes. "Bye, Draco."

And with that, the girl that Draco had liked for a long while now, walked out of his life as a potential lover and once-enemy, and into it as a friend.

* * *

"What's Hermione doing with Malfoy?" Harry gestured to the two that were standing outside The Three Broomsticks, looking as if they were arguing one moment, and then friends the next. Blaise shrugged and gave Harry's hand a gentle squeeze.

"Draco likes her," Blaise said nonchalantly, as if it were the most normal thing to say. Harry didn't seem surprised by it and when Blaise asked, Harry merely shrugged.

"I figured it out a while ago," he gave Blaise a small smile and took a swing of his butterbeer. Blaise grinned as Harry swallowed and set the bottle back on the table.

"You know what, Potter?" Blaise asked, and Harry's eyebrows rose. Blaise hadn't called him Potter in a while. Unless he was joking...

"What, Zabini?" Harry responded playfully. Blaise leaned over and tugged Harry closer until their lips were a hair's breadth apart.

" _I_  like you," Blaise whispered against his lips. When he spoke, they moved gently against Harry's, brushing so delightfully soft that Harry had to shiver. Then Blaise tilted his head until his lips were locked against Harry's firmly and they kissed chastely before Blaise pulled away and gave a comforting squeeze to Harry's hand.

Around them, Hogwarts students stared, some in shock, some in disgust – but most were cheering and happy for them.

Outside the window, Draco Malfoy had already turned away and walked back to Hogwarts, cutting his Hogsmeade trip early. His heart had somehow managed to take three blows in one day.

He'd been rejected by Hermione because she liked someone else.

He'd pretty much lost his best friend, unknowingly.

And now there was absolutely no chance of Harry Potter looking at him romantically, ever again.

If he had thought Hermione's rejection had broken his heart... seeing Potter with Blaise was an unsettling emotion that felt ten times worse.


	12. Juxtaposed Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Just a heads up. We're gonna get into the Drarry very soon. Very. Very. Soon. *trembles* This is the moment we've all been waiting for. Err... and don't worry too much about the other pairings. Relax you guys! I'm just a person who likes to make Harry a bit of a dude-magnet. He attracts boys and men to him like, umm... fruit flies and vinegar!

_Last time..._

Outside the window, Draco Malfoy had already turned away and walked back to Hogwarts, cutting his Hogsmeade trip early. His heart had somehow managed to take three blows in one day.

He'd been rejected by Hermione because she liked someone else.

He'd pretty much lost his best friend, unknowingly.

And now there was absolutely no chance of Harry Potter looking at him romantically, ever again.

If he had thought Hermione's rejection had broken his heart... seeing Potter with Blaise was an unsettling emotion that felt ten times worse.

* * *

 

**Chapter Eleven: Juxtaposed Hearts**

Harry was in a rut. A particularly nasty one, too. Always one to be caught between a rock and a hard place, Harry soon found out that dating Blaise Zabini caused complications outside of his love life, but not necessarily out of his heart.

The rumour mill was on full cycle and there were plenty of words being passed through the grapevine. Harry couldn't help but think that every time he and Blaise walked to classes hand in hand, that they were just adding fuel to the fire. He had learned to ignore the gossipers at Hogwarts, but if he heard one more rumour about how Blaise had 'stolen' Harry away from Professor Snape (how on earth did  _that_  come to fruition?!), he was going to blow.

Ron was a bit awkward around Harry now, which irked him to no end, since Ron  _did_  know that he was gay. Harry couldn't understand Ron at all. When Harry had came out and told Ron and Hermione that he liked blokes better than birds, Ron had surprised them both by taking it quite well. And all this time with Hermione writing her fanfiction, Ron usually appeared disgusted (it was within reason though – Harry was disgusted too), but he was quite good-natured about the entire thing, too. Harry suspected that Ron even participated in helping Hermione write.

But now that he was  _actually_ _dating_  another guy, Ron had distanced himself a bit. Or maybe it was the other way around and Harry had distanced himself from his best friends. He frowned.

The situation wasn't completely bad or anything. Ron  _did_  talk to him, and Harry hung out with him as per usual, but Harry had also dedicated a huge chunk of his time to spending hours with Blaise. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, grumbling to himself. He supposed he'd have to look over how he managed his time with other people.

But what was the worst of all was Malfoy. Harry couldn't figure that damn boy out. The situation was proved worse, especially since Harry  _lived_  with Malfoy, in a sense. Malfoy didn't greet him at all, barely looked at him. Whenever Harry tried to start a conversation, Malfoy would suddenly give him some excuse and leave. Not that it was any different from before, but Malfoy holed himself up in his room and locked the door at all times. And that was  _a lot_  of times.

At first, he thought that Malfoy was just being a moody prat, until he tried to invite Blaise over to the dorms and he had declined. When Harry had prompted him as to why he wouldn't come over, Blaise informed him that he and Malfoy weren't on speaking terms.

This caused Harry to re-evaluate a few of the things that he had overlooked before. He started noticing Malfoy in classes. At times he would be completely focused on his work that he wouldn't notice if someone spilled acid on themselves (this was the case in one unfortunate potions lesson), or become so distracted that he'd get points deducted from Slytherin.

He had noticed that Malfoy's health seemed to... decline. The usually pale boy was  _un_ usually pale, and the confidence and sexiness that he usually oozed in generous quantities didn't seem to be radiating from him anymore. Harry had managed to catch his eye a few times and Malfoy had always looked away first, but from what he  _had_  seen, Malfoy looked completely listless and the brilliance in his eyes was dulled somewhat.

At meal times, Malfoy hardly ate and his slender form had become dangerously thin within two weeks. The holidays were drawing nearer and the weather was already cold. Harry feared that if Malfoy didn't start to look after himself, he would, undoubtedly, catch his death with a cold.

Harry shivered as a particularly frosty breeze drafted through the open-air corridor that he and Blaise were walking through. His boyfriend noticed the slight tremors that rippled through his body and, in a sweet gesture, unbuttoned his cloak so that Harry could slip under it.

Harry smiled up at Blaise and felt the inevitable kiss against his lips. Briefly, his mind flittered over to an image of Malfoy in bed, coughing and running a fever. He felt guilt flush through him. Why? Why did he have to feel regret  _now_  of all times?

They walked back into the toasty warm interior of the main castle with Harry still pressed up snugly against Blaise's side. "You sure you don't want to come over?" Harry asked him with a slight pout. Blaise laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"I'm sure. Don't worry. Things will sort themselves out in the end," Blaise told him as they manoeuvred themselves up a flight of stairs. They had just reached the landing when a loud, frantic voice breached the silence of the corridor.

"Harry! Harry, Professor McGonagall needs to see you right now!" Neville Longbottom sprinted down the hallway towards them and Harry winced when the clumsy boy tripped on  _air_  and crashed down onto the floor. The portraits and suits of armour around them snickered at him.

"What for? Where is she?" Harry demanded, untangling himself from Blaise's embrace. Neville seemed to finally realize that the two of them had been together and flushed lightly.

"Err... something about Malfoy's duties. She's in her office," Neville informed him breathlessly as soon as he had picked himself up off the floor and dusted himself off. Harry nodded his thanks, kissed Blaise goodbye and darted off to see his Head of House.

Neville glanced at Harry's boyfriend, who sneered at him before stalking off. Neville squeaked in surprise and scuttled off in the direction from which he'd just come.

* * *

Harry placed three sharp knocks to McGonagall's door before the voice of his professor granted him permission to enter. Harry opened the door and peeked inside.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked meekly as he slid into the room and shut the door behind him. McGonagall watched her student over the rim of her glasses, then gestured for him to take a seat.

"I'll cut to the chase, Mr. Potter. Mr. Malfoy is unfit for duties, therefore you will be required to work the night shift every day until his recovery. It should only be about a week," McGonagall added when she saw Harry open his mouth to complain. Truth be told, she didn't like the situation very much, either. Malfoy was more than capable of taking care of himself, so why was the boy in such a mess?

"What's wrong with him?" Harry dropped his voice to a whisper, as if he felt that the portraits in his professor's office would be listening to their conversation at that moment.

"Well, to put it plainly, he looks like he's been terribly upset by something and it's taken over the forefront of his thoughts, causing him to be unable to look after his own health," McGonagall looked as if she were analysing Harry, causing him to become extremely uncomfortable. "You wouldn't happen to know what occurred, would you, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shook his head as a negative response. His professor nodded then gave him a weary smile; the lines of exhaustion on her face showed more than ever.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. Your efforts will be much appreciated," Professor McGonagall thanked him before dismissing him. "Be sure to keep yourself in good health. Wouldn't want to have both of our Head Boys sick, now would we?"

"No," Harry closed the door behind him as he left. "No, we wouldn't."

* * *

Harry stopped by the Hospital Wing right afterwards. It wasn't that hard to get there, considering it was on the same level as his private dorm. He opened one of the giant, oak doors and stepped inside.

Rows upon rows of sterile, white beds lay made and unused, save for one in the far corner, which housed a familiar looking blond, propped up on stacks of pillows. Harry cursed under his breath as Malfoy noticed him and Harry forced himself to come closer.

There was a sense of alarm that lit Malfoy's eyes; they shone brighter, in a way, but Malfoy was scowling again. Harry supposed he should have been happy that Malfoy scowling meant that there was a sense of normalcy in the world.

"Alright, Malfoy?" Harry sighed as he pulled up a chair and plonked himself beside Malfoy's bed. There was a moment of silence, and Harry thought that Malfoy was going to give him the cold shoulder until he heard a hoarse, strangled voice speak.

"No... shitty, actually," came Malfoy's dry response. Harry let out a chuckle, despite himself, and the both of them glanced at each other with a feeling of surprise. Malfoy didn't say anything and Harry didn't pressure him into doing so. Having to speak actually looked painful for him.

"I'm taking over your duties for the time being, just so you know," Harry informed him as he leaned back into his chair and rested his feet on the edge of Malfoy's bed. If Malfoy was irritated by it, he didn't say anything, much less noticed them there. Instead, he stared blankly at Harry, as if waiting for something else. When Harry didn't say anything else, Malfoy let out a shaky sigh and spoke again.

"So what, you want me to pay you back for taking over my duties, Potter?" he spat, and was immediately attacked by a bout of rough, throat-hacking coughing. Harry silently passed a glass of water to Malfoy and waited until the coughs had subsided. Malfoy gratefully drank down half the glass of water and handed it back to Harry.

"Not at all, Malfoy. Just informing you, s'all," Harry mumbled as he stared at the glass of water in his hands. He watched Malfoy, who was fiddling with the starch white bed sheets.

Although they sat in silence, it wasn't at all awkward, which was good for Harry. It sort of reminded him of that time that he and Malfoy had sat beside each other on the couch, the night that they had to present that speech to the school. Except this was much more comfortable. He felt more at ease being in Malfoy's presence.

"Potter, what are you doing?" Malfoy's voice sounded alarmed and Harry realized that he was sipping at the water that Malfoy had just drank. Harry had been absentmindedly drinking Malfoy's water and hadn't noticed the stare that was on him until Malfoy had decided to speak up.

"Erm... sorry," Harry apologized mechanically; he didn't feel guilty that he wasn't sorry at all. It wasn't like Malfoy going to die because he had drank some of his water. Harry smirked at Malfoy and took more sips of the water. "Thirsty."

"I can see that," Malfoy sniffed, then winced as he rubbed his throat. "Can you pass me that potion over there?"

Harry glanced at the bedside table and saw a tray of potion vials, some empty, some full and stoppered. He recognized them, having been fed them quite a few times. Wordlessly, he unstoppered one and handed it to Malfoy, who drank it down without a complaint.

Moments later had Malfoy gasping for breath and sitting up straight. "Thanks," he muttered and leaned over to put the empty glass phial back onto the tray. The potions were like energy boosters in a way, not quite like Pepper-Up Potions, but similar. It made the pain one felt much more bearable.

Unfortunately, now that Malfoy was able to snap and snarl all he wanted without the chance of his voice box breaking, the once comfortable atmosphere had become tense and charged with anticipation.

"Um..." Harry began, shifting in his seat so that the plastic backrest fitted against him more comfortably. Malfoy stared at him for a moment or two then he sighed and turned his gaze back to the bed sheets.

"You and Blaise," Malfoy began, speaking more to his lap than to Harry. The brunet glanced up at Malfoy in time to see him close his eyes with an almost painful expression.

"Me and Blaise," Harry supplied when Malfoy didn't say anything after a full minute. Malfoy licked his dry, chapped lips and gave Harry a smirk.

"So you two shagged yet?" he asked, his voice light and casual. Harry glared at him for a second then realized that this was Malfoy's way of trying to break the awkwardness.

"Not yet," Harry replied in an almost teasing tone. At least, he had  _hoped_  it was teasing, but obviously it wasn't the right thing to say because the awkwardness had returned tenfold and Malfoy looked a bit miffed. "Well, to be honest, I... I don't think I want to do that with Blaise."

Malfoy's eyebrow rose and his lips quirked into what Harry deemed a cross between a smile and a smirk, "Saving yourself until marriage, Potter?"

Harry didn't say anything and Malfoy wasn't talking after that, so they remained silent until Madame Pomfrey bustled in with a tray of wizard pills. She motioned for Harry to go and turned to the table on the other side of Malfoy.

Harry glanced at Malfoy once more and gave him a comforting sort of smile, "No, Malfoy. I'm saving myself for the right person."

And he left the Hospital Wing, his heart feeling considerably lighter.

* * *

Harry had wisely left the soon-to-be-inevitable conversation that involved Hermione out of the topic when talking with Malfoy. Despite having hated each other for nearly seven years, Harry knew when  _not_  to add insult to injury.

Hermione was out of sorts as well, after his date with Blaise, and Harry had the sneaking suspicion that the cause for his best friend's state of disorganization had something to do with Malfoy himself.

He waited until he could find a moment alone with his best female friend, and under the pretence that they were going to kick-start S.P.E.W yet again, Ron had left them to their own devices in the library the next afternoon.

"Hermione, I think we need to talk," Harry whispered under his breath as he peeked over the top of his book. Hermione was busy writing more fanfiction (was that all she ever did nowadays?  _When_  did she ever do her homework?!) and ignoring Harry. He gave the girl a light nudge with his foot, causing her to look up.

"What?" she hissed back to Harry, causing him to curl his lip and sniff lightly. She sighed and apologised, then asked him again, but this time politely.

"That time me and Blaise went on a date to Hogsmeade, we saw you and Malfoy outside of The Three Broomsticks," Harry began, noticing the light blush that spread across Hermione's cheeks.

"Yes, we saw you there, too, clearly," Hermione replied, looking slightly disgruntled. Harry gnawed on his bottom lip then lowered his head and voice.

"Malfoy's been out of it, 'Mione. Did you do something to him?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She looked offended and Harry had the good graces to at least blush.

"Are you insinuating that I did something to  _him_ , Harry?" Hermione's look darkened and Harry shrank back a bit, but then Hermione sighed and she looked almost defeated. "He... confessed to me."

Harry tried to keep himself looking surprised, but it didn't fool Hermione. She noticed the lack of excitement and anger that usually caused Harry to do reckless things when it involved Malfoy.

"Harry, you know something, don't you?" Hermione narrowed his eyes at the raven-haired boy, causing him to drop his book and bang his head against the table. "Don't do that!"

Harry glanced up at her pathetically and promptly dropped his head against the desk again. "Harry, you can't avoid this. I know you know something, and I know it has something to do with me and Malfoy," then she paused, "and possibly Ron as well. So spill."

Harry lowered his eyes to the front cover of the book he had been looking at, something about the Dark Arts, which always interested him. His fingers gently ran over the rough leather binding of the book and the golden lettering that was imprinted upon the cover. The distraction was enough for Harry to force himself to talk, to tell Hermione about what had been going on the past few months.

Hermione looked a little shocked, but as usual, she took it well and accepted that Harry was trying to protect her from Malfoy when he hadn't warned her immediately.

"So what's the entire thing about Ron?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrow at Harry, who looked exhausted and resigned, but relieved at having the load taken off his chest. Harry glanced up at her.

"You didn't answer my question about Malfoy," he pointed out, causing the other girl to huff loudly. She paused for a moment then lowered her head so that they were level, eye to eye, on the surface of the table.

"He confessed to me, and I told him that I liked someone else," Hermione told him lamely, causing Harry's eyes to widen. She gave him a smile when she saw the look of realization in Harry's eyes.

"Hermione, this is great!" Harry grinned, and for once, the happiness reached his eyes. But Hermione sighed and shook her head, gesturing for Harry to come closer again.

"No it's not, Harry. Well, actually, yes it is, but for Draco, it's not," she mumbled the last part under her breath, but Harry had caught it. At Harry's question about Malfoy's name, Hermione explained. "I asked if we could just be friends, and he accepted. He wanted me to call him Draco, though. Then we hugged."

Harry had grown, maturity-wise, since the last year, but he couldn't help the exclamation that left his mouth as soon as Hermione had told him. "You  _hugged_  him?"

Hermione rolled his eyes and playfully slapped his hand with her book. "Oh, come off it, Harry. I know that  _you_  wouldn't mind having your arms around him, or his arms around you."

"Just because I'm gay-" Harry began to splutter indignantly, but Hermione shook her head and silenced him immediately.

"It has nothing to do with that, Harry. You may think that I spend all my time writing fanfiction and doing homework and pining for Ron," she gave Harry a small glare at that point, "But I  _do_  notice things. I've noticed the way you interact with Draco, and vice versa. Harry, he was blind to see it, but he  _knows_  it's there. Don't you be a blind fool, too."

"You know, every time you talk in riddles, my head begins to hurt," Harry informed her, but before she could retort, he looked almost thoughtful and sighed, "But I understand what you mean. Really, Hermione, I do. And I'm surprised that you... noticed."

"Well, I'm surprised too. You weren't being totally obvious," here, she gave Harry a smile, "so it was kind of hard to sort out whether you were glaring at him because you hated him, or glaring at him because he wasn't putting the moves on you – Harry, shut up – but instead of watching you for reactions, I decided to watch Malfoy."

"What do you mean?" Harry ran a hand over his face and rubbed his cheeks tiredly, then moved his hands to run through his hair. The tousled nest was messier than ever and the ruffled fringe came to rest atop Harry's eyes.

Hermione smiled her all-knowing smile and tapped her nose. Harry didn't know what meant, but it obviously meant that Hermione knew something, and not that she was sniffing something out.

She leaned over and gently flicked a bit of hair out of Harry's eyes affectionately. Before she could move away, however, a teasing voice remarked the scene from behind Harry.

"I do hope that you aren't putting the moves on my boyfriend," Blaise joked good-naturedly as he sat down beside Harry and pecked his cheek lightly. Hermione blushed and moved away, then picked up her book and began to read.

Harry couldn't help but feel slight irritation toward Blaise. He was having a rare and  _private_  conversation with Hermione and he was butting in. Admittedly, they  _could_  have used the Room of Requirement, but then Ron would have gotten suspicious if he decided to go looking for them and realized that they weren't in the library.

"Hi, Blaise," Harry sighed as the taller teen scooted his chair closer to Harry and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Another thing – Blaise was really touchy-feely. For a Slytherin, he was really clingy. Well, he wasn't clingy with his past... endeavours, Harry had noticed, but with Harry, yes, he was very clingy.

"Professor Snape spoke to me again," Blaise murmured hotly against Harry's neck, causing an involuntary shiver to wrack through is body. Hermione kept her nose pointedly buried in her book, but Harry could see the dark blush that formed on her cheeks.

"Oh?" Harry feigned nonchalance. "What did he want?"

"You," Blaise whispered into Harry's ear, biting on his earlobe before moving down to his neck. Harry could feel his nose nuzzling against his skin, slightly damp with sweat since it was getting a little heated. Hermione made a small noise but Blaise ignored her and Harry didn't protest to the ministrations.

Blaise's tongue flicked out to taste Harry's skin, then he latched his lips onto a prominent vein in Harry's neck and suckled gently, then hard, and then gently again. Harry let out a shuddering moan and his head lolled on his neck, exposing more delicate, creamy flesh.

Hermione stood up abruptly and excused herself, before grabbing her books and making a bee-line for the exit. Blaise sniggered into Harry's ear and licked and suckled on Harry's skin again. Below the table, he felt Blaise nudge his thigh with his knee, and then a large hand was inching towards his groin. Harry kept his shaking hands on his book as Blaise finally reached his destination and pressed lightly against the obvious bulge there.

"Harry," Blaise hissed into his ear, sending spikes of pleasure down his spine. The hand on Harry's crotch began to massage his erection through his trousers, in circular motions, and then in suggestive strokes. "I want you, Harry."

"I... I thought Snape wanted me," Harry managed to choke out jokingly, barely suppressing a laugh. Blaise pulled away and frowned.

"That was such a mood killer," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. He flashed Harry a grin, however, and leaned forward to lick at Harry's lips. "But true. He wants to see you in his office, now. That's why I came to look for you here."

"Ah..." Harry stood to gather his books, listening to Blaise's quiet laughter behind him. "Why are you laughing?"

Blaise smirked and pressed a gentle kiss against Harry's temple. "Because you're about ten minutes late."

Harry nearly let out a screech of terror as he shoved Blaise away and, in a very Hermione-like fashion, dashed out of the library and straight to the dungeons.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Harry mumbled as he tried to fix his robes so that it would hide the obvious bulge between his legs. Snape's dark eyes glittered in the dim lighting of the office.

"You're late, Mr. Potter," he told him calmly, with a hint of iciness in his tone. Harry shivered as Snape's eyes did a once-over on his body. "And you've been busy."

Harry wondered how Snape could have possibly known that, until he could practically  _feel_  the eyes lingering on his neck, where he immediately went to cover up the bright red hickies that blemished his skin. "Blaise Zabini," was all Harry said, for Snape to suddenly understand.

"I see," Snape replied, before he stood up and walked to one side of the room to busy himself with a few bottles. Harry wondered if he was in trouble. Snape hadn't even taken points for being late, which probably meant that he had something far more sinister than detention in store for him.

"Sir?" Harry began tentatively. He wasn't sure if he should stay rooted where he was, or approach the man. He didn't have to make the decision anytime soon, however, since Snape had obviously finished what he had wanted to do and stalked over to Harry.

"This," he held up a tiny vial of a clear potion, reminding Harry of the incident in Snape's potion stores that one day in his fourth year. "Is the work of many hours of constant labour and, surprisingly, thanks to you and Mr. Zabini, I have been able to create a new version of the Veritaserum, that is..." he scanned Harry's face for a moment before leaning in to whisper into Harry's ear, "most  _potent_."

Harry shivered as he felt Snape's hot breath almost singeing his already heated skin. His erection, which had withered considerably on the way down to the dungeons, had already hardened the moment Snape came closer. He felt disgusted that he thought about Snape that way, and he was disgusted that Snape was doing this to a student, and Harry Potter, of all people.

"S-sir," Harry stammered as he backed himself against a cabinet that was beside the door. It rattled as Harry's back pressed against the glass, and he could feel the door handle pressing uncomfortably into his flesh.

Snape's eyes roamed Harry's face and body before he leaned forward again, causing Harry to flinch, and pressed a light kiss against Harry's forehead.

"Good work. You may go."

Harry opened his eyes, which had somehow drifted shut during the entire scenario, and he stared incredulously at Snape, feeling slight irritation bubble in his stomach.

"Wait, that's it? You just called me down here so that you could tell me that you improved a potion?" Harry scowled, but he shrunk back when Snape's eyes flashed dangerously.

"What else where you expecting, Potter? You've made it quite obvious that my... attentions were unwanted during previous experiences," Snape informed him coldly, and despite himself, Harry flushed pink at the memory.

"You took me by surprise," Harry responded, taking an awkward step closer towards Snape. Perhaps it was the lust talking, because Harry knew that under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have been doing this, and his prick was so hard that it hurt. This time, it was Snape who took a step back, but only a step and no further.

Harry strode closer, determined by Gryffindor foolishness and rashness, until he was almost chest to chest with Snape. Snape's eyes were dark and hazy and Harry could feel something straining to get closer to him. He watched Snape's face closely, taking in the sallow, oily skin, a few pockmarks, the huge nose and the thin lips. There was a hint of stubble on his chin, Harry realized.

Snape was a man. A  _gay_  man, with experiences, no doubt. And...

Snape didn't move, but Harry took another step closer until their chests brushed and he felt something hard brush against his own prick.

And Snape was his teacher. And he was cheating on Blaise. And Malfoy would be upset. And-

What the hell? Malfoy? What the heck did  _Malfoy_ have anything to do with this? He frowned to himself, but in his momentary distraction, he felt a light pressure against his lips, causing him to break out of one daze and fall into another.

"I've already dismissed you, Mr. Potter. Leave. Now," Snape ordered, breathing harshly as he watched Harry with dark, lust-glazed eyes. Harry swallowed hard and turned away. He wasn't a fool.

He left, the sounds of Snape's breathing filling his ears, and the feel of Snape's heat and body still burned into his flesh and memories.

* * *

He needed somewhere to think. But he couldn't go outside. Outside was unbearably cold and snow was already settling in. He didn't  _want_  to go outside. He just wanted some place warm, where he could think and be alone.

And since Malfoy was still in the Hospital Wing, Harry decided that using the dorms to his full advantage would be a good idea. Harry made his way back to the dorms immediately, uttered out the password to Sir Jean, and stumbled inside.

The fireplace as already blazing with a fire, giving the room comfortable warmth. Harry glanced around and settled into the couch, staring into the flames as if it would suddenly throw a tangible answer out at him. It didn't, of course. But Harry wished it did.

Did that count as cheating on Blaise?

Obviously, it did. He was doing it, consciously, and aware of the consequences. He'd kissed Snape. Or well, Snape had kissed him. But still, a kiss was a kiss and he had wanted more. He had gotten hard because of Blaise, but even harder because of Snape.

And he'd been the one to approach Snape after he had clearly been told to leave.

Fuck. He was still hard! Harry glanced around the room surreptitiously and realized that he was, of course, alone. He glanced down at his crotch and realized that his cock was still painfully erect.

He hadn't... well, felt the need to masturbate in a while, actually. Usually when Blaise did things like that to him, he would have some sort of weird distraction that would cause him to wilt. But now...

He patted his bulged jeans, willing it to go away, but the touch caused him to twitch. He needed lube. Something like it. He had an idea. Quickly, he rose from the couch, almost stumbling as he did so, and practically ran to the toilet. Blue was a little startled, since he'd been sleeping under the haystack again, but he opened the door and granted Harry access. Harry ran through the small corridor and opened the door to the left.

Malfoy's beauty products. Guiltily, he grabbed one that looked like it would smell nice and went back to the living room. He knew he should be doing this in the privacy of his bedroom, or the toilet, or even the prefect's bathroom, but there was a sense of excitement that caused him to become even more aroused when he decided he would do it on the couch. He and Malfoy shared this space. It was almost... blasphemy. He felt like a dirty sinner. A wanton whore.

But he loved it. The thrill, the excitement. It was a wonder that he'd never had sex yet. Harry let out a breathless moan as he undid the button of his jeans and hurriedly pulled the zipper down. He tentatively reached in and stroked the base with his fingertips.

Wow. The course pubic hair was rough against his skin, and the hard, hot flesh of his prick was welcomed. Harry had never studied himself before, but he took this opportunity to do so.

He wasn't particularly small, nor was he big, so he had to settle for his slightly above average sized prick. He was so hard that it was pressed almost flat against his stomach, upright and fully erect.

He hadn't been cut yet. The Dursleys never bothered circumcising him. The usual foreskin on the tip of his cock had pulled back to reveal a smooth, slightly shiny bulbous head, which was a slightly red-bordering-on-purple colour. There was already pearly-white pre-cum that had beaded on the tiny slit at the tip.

He reached over and grabbed the facial lotion, uncapped the lid and squirted a decent amount onto his hand. He placed it back on the table, still opened. He rubbed the cool, white lotion between the fingers of his right hand before he reached down and touched the hot arousal which sat between his legs.

Harry let out a loud, unrestrained hiss when he felt the slight coolness of the lotion come in contact with his cock. Gods... the sensation alone was enough to get him off. He didn't move for nearly a full thirty seconds. He wanted to draw this out, to enjoy himself.

When he felt that he had a reasonable grip, both on his cock and on his control, Harry began to pump up and down slowly and at a steady pace. He forced his hips to remain still, resisting the temptation to jerk his hips upwards into his hand.

He memorized his manhood, feeling little bumps and ridges here and there. A large vein that thrummed with blood on the underside of his cock; his fingers brushed deftly over that. He stroked languidly, squeezing the base, and then moving slowly to the top where he twisted the tip before moving back swiftly to the base.

A bead of sweat trailed from his forehead, down to his neck, where he could feel damp skin rubbing against his sweaty clothes. He lifted his hips and pulled his pants down lower so that he could get more comfortable. A loud moan left his mouth as he closed his eyes and allowed himself to buck once, then twice into his hands before he restrained himself again and tried to stave off the impeding orgasm.

Harry lost himself within the sensation, his head lolling back against the headrest of the couch. His mind began to drift.

He imagined Blaise running large hands over his body, tweaking at his nipples, kissing him hotly. Smooth skin against skin. Harry groaned. And then Blaise would suck against his neck and leave marks of possession. A low growl left Harry's throat.

Possessive. Snape seemed like that type of guy. Harry let out a whine and rolled his hips against his pumping hand. He reached down with his left hand to cup at the heavy balls beneath his prick, rubbing and fondling the slightly wrinkled skin of the sacs. Oh... so good...

He imagined what Blaise would be like, if he had sex with him. Would his first time be with his current boyfriend, Blaise? Again, his mind drifted.

Or would it be during a wild, forbidden tryst between a teacher and student, having clandestine meetings in secret alcoves around the school?

Harry felt his climax starting to rush towards him and this time, he felt like it was time to let it go.

Or would his first time... possibly be with someone else? Someone who Harry could definitely love. Someone who would take Harry gently during his first time, and then when Harry wanted it, would fuck him so hard he wouldn't be able to give the name of the day?

Someone who would hold him, caress him, worship his body. Harry moaned and twisted the head of his prick before sliding back down. He started to buck upwards, thrusting into his hand.

Someone who would kiss him lovingly, stroke his hair, tend to his every need. Harry let out a long whine as he felt the warmth turn to heat, and the heat soon became unbearable.

Someone who would make love to him on days when he wanted to be remembered, and then fuck him on days when he wanted to be forgotten. Harry stiffened as he felt the impending orgasm finally take his body.

Someone who had platinum blond hair, pale skin and quicksilver eyes; a sharp, slightly pointy chin, aristocratic nose, condescending attitude; whose voice seemed better served to give insults than compliments. Oh how Harry wished to hear his voice...

"DRACO!" he allowed himself to scream the name, tearing it from his throat and past his lips. He thrust into his hand in an animalistic manner, his growls becoming feral as the heat inside his belly rushed outwards to every part of his body. The pads of his fingertips and toes were tingling with heat and his eyes were watering. His balls drew up closer to his body and Harry's fingers had just managed to inch past the heavy sacs before he stroked at a spot behind them and then...

Long, thick and hot ribbons of pearly-white come began to spurt out from the tip of his cock, covering his hand with the sticky emission. Moments later, he was still shaking from the absolute power of what he'd just done, feeling the last of his cum pulse out gently before his cock softened completely. He shut his eyes tightly, as if some sort of power would explode from him at that very moment. Or cause him to implode.

Explode, implode, he didn't care. He'd just had the best fucking orgasm of his little life so far. He tried to grab a hold of his composure and reteach himself how to breathe. But within seconds, his breath was taken away yet again.

"Interesting, Potter," came a cool voice from behind him. Harry froze, his hand still on his soft, but twitching prick. He heard footsteps draw closer until someone dropped into the seat beside him, and picked up the bottle of lotion thoughtfully. "Never thought you could use this for  _that_."

Harry could only stare at the smirking blond who sat before him in shock. He released his soft prick and it lay against his thighs.

Malfoy leaned in closer, then grabbed Harry's hand and lapped at the sticky cum that had spurted across his fingertips.

"How long..." Harry began, finally able to find his voice, but not quite entirely. Malfoy looked devious as he sucked on Harry's middle finger, cleaning it of Harry's evidence.

"Long enough," Malfoy raised his eyes to meet Harry's, piercing him with that stare. "Care to explain, Potter?"

Well shit.


	13. The Sweetest Apologies Here in Your Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters. They are the work of J.K Rowling. I don't own the lyrics to Here in Your Arms - they belong to the totally awesome band, HelloGoodbye. Anything you recognise does not belong to me, except for the plot, which I need to put a cap on before it spirals out of control (you can't see it yet, probably, but it's coming up faster than I'd like it to).
> 
> Warning: We've hit Planet Drarry! Yay! FINALLY! Fluff, cheese, slight Snarry (but you already know that), and Blaise/Harry in this chapter. But you know that too.
> 
> old work!

_Last time..._

"Interesting, Potter," came a cool voice from behind him. Harry froze, his hand still on his soft, but twitching prick. He heard footsteps draw closer until someone dropped into the seat beside him, and picked up the bottle of lotion thoughtfully. "Never thought you could use this for  _that_."

Harry could only stare at the smirking blond who sat before him in shock. He released his soft prick and it lay against his thighs.

Malfoy leaned in closer, then grabbed Harry's hand and lapped at the sticky cum that had spurted across his fingertips.

"How long..." Harry began, finally able to find his voice, but not quite entirely. Malfoy looked devious as he sucked on Harry's middle finger, cleaning it of Harry's evidence.

"Long enough," Malfoy raised his eyes to meet Harry's, piercing him with that stare. "Care to explain, Potter?"

Well shit.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: The Sweetest Apologies, Here in Your Arms**

Harry couldn't move and didn't speak. He opened his mouth soundlessly, futilely, but still, nothing happened.

What  _had_  just happened? He had been wanking off and screamed out... Malfoy's name... and Malfoy had heard. Slowly, the pieces began to click in his mind and soon, a near-complete puzzle was formed in his head.

Shrieking, he snatched his hand out from Malfoy's grasp and stumbled out of the chair. Malfoy watched him quietly as he tried to regain his breath, his wet hand pressed against his chest.

"When did – I thought – weren't you? Hospital Wing?" Harry hoped that whatever bullshit had just streamed out of his mouth would make sense to Malfoy. Fortunately, it did.

"Well, after today, I got well enough to come back to the dorms. Madame Pomfrey said I could stay in my room until the week is up," Malfoy explained casually, but his eyes were lingering somewhere around Harry's crotch. "You didn't answer me."

"I'm not obliged to," Harry snapped, self-consciously drawing his robes closer to his body. Malfoy narrowed his eyes as he stood, and then walked closer to Harry.

"You  _are_  if it involves _me_ , Potter. Don't think I didn't hear you," Malfoy smirked as he towered over Harry, his hands on his hips in a way that only he could pull off and seem threatening without being feminine at all.

Harry felt nausea start to bubble in his throat and he backed away from Malfoy in fear. Malfoy continued to approach, not stopping until Harry had gotten himself pressed against the juncture between his desk and the wall.

"Always getting yourself caught between a rock and a  _hard_  place, eh, Potter?" Malfoy hissed as he reached out and grabbed Harry's robes by the lapel. Harry's eyes widened as Malfoy drew his face closer. He pushed Malfoy away and tried to pull his face back but Malfoy was already closing the distance. "Slut."

Harry froze as Malfoy spoke, and then stopped a mere few centimetres away from Harry. Harry narrowed his eyes, " _What_  did you call me?"

" _Slut_ ," Malfoy repeated, this time grabbing Harry's robes with both his hands, pushing Harry painfully hard against the wall. Harry moaned. "A masochist too. Wonders never do cease, do they, Potter?"

"S-stop, Malfoy."

"Why?" Malfoy's tone had softened and Harry could hear pain lacing that single word. Gods, how he  _hated_  that word.

Why? Why what? Why was he gay? Why was he still a virgin? Why was he with Blaise? Why wasn't he with Malfoy? Why did he go to Snape? Why was Snape after him? Why did he cheat on Blaise? Why did he jerk off, thinking of Malfoy and screaming his name?

"Why what?" Harry asked him, his breath stolen from his lungs as Malfoy lifted his head to stare at Harry with compassion in his eyes, blazing with so much unrestrained emotion that Harry couldn't help but suck in a breath.

Malfoy lowered his head until his face was resting in the juncture of Harry's neck and collarbone. His nose grazed the sensitive skin there and Harry fought hard to remind himself that he'd just masturbated,  _unknowingly_ , in front of Malfoy.

Harry stiffened as Malfoy pressed a soft kiss against the skin of his collarbone and was barely able to make out the words that Malfoy spoke before the blond turned and fled to his room.

_Why do I love you?_

Harry stared at the locked door, unmoving and scared. Only a mere few days ago, this very boy had confessed to Hermione Granger, and was rejected.

How could Harry know if his words were true?

But the gentleness with which Malfoy had treated him while whispering those words to him... Harry shivered.

It was  _exactly_  what he longed for.

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy, you should be free to go, but you'll be resting in your room for the next week. You will be permitted to leave for lunch, and set homework will be assigned to you," Madam Pomfrey told him as she checked over a sheet attached to a clipboard. She peered over the top of the wood. "That is all."

Nodding, Draco stood from his bed, slightly shaky but still able to walk. After a few seconds, he was able to stand properly and walk properly as well. He thanked Madam Pomfrey then left the Hospital Wing, thankful to be out of there.

While they had helped him to feel better, they hadn't been able to do anything for Draco's looks. Draco sighed when he realized he was going to have to start looking after his skin more than usual, to get himself back up to par.

There was only a corridor that separated the Hospital Wing and their dorms, so Draco headed straight there. He paused only to utter the password to Sir Jean, who saluted and moved aside. Quietly, he strode in, planning to have a nap in his room, or read a book on the couch.

Draco froze when he heard a loud moan and stopped right outside the entrance way. He could hear the sound of the stones grinding as Sir Jean moved back into place. His eyes only searched the room for a second before they landed on the couch. Or more specifically,  _who_  was on the couch and  _what_  they were doing.

He choked back his words as he watched the dark-haired boy masturbate on the very couch that they had sat on, that  _Draco_  had loved to sit on and read. He squinted. Just over Potter's shoulder, he could see  _his_  personal facial lotion on the coffee table, still open.

The tell-tale scent of cum and sweat mingled in the air with the fragrance of his facial lotion. Draco felt his head go light. Shite. What a sight!

Potter had his head pushed against the backrest, his eyes closed tightly as his hand pumped away at his cock. Draco was sure that he was bigger than Potter in that department, but Potter was impressive enough.

The raven-haired boy's legs were splayed open, one foot resting on the floor, the other propped up against the edge of the coffee table. His jeans were strained between the gap in his knees and his back was slouched lazily in the juncture of the seat. His robes were bunched up and tucked under his chin.

Potter probably thought he was alone. That must be why he was so... vocal. Loud, unrestrained moans left his pouting red lips, which had a sheen of sweat above the upper lip. A long whine snapped Draco out of his trance as his rival bucked twice into his hand before stopping himself, most likely trying to hold back his release.

Draco had to admit, the boy  _did_  have some willpower in him. And stamina – which was always good, if one wanted an all-nighter.

"Ahhh... mmm," Potter hissed and moaned as he thrust into his hand. Completely unaware of Draco's presence – the fool. Potter had no material in front of him, nothing to look at while he went at it.

He must have had some vivid imagination, or something.

Draco continued to watch as Potter finally brought himself off, screaming  _his_  name. Draco's eyes widened and even his own willpower could not stop his mouth from opening a fraction.

He could hear his heart beating loudly in his ears, well over the moans and pants that Potter released.

His  _own_  name.  _Draco!_  Potter had shouted, and seconds later, had spilled himself into his hand. Unable to help himself, Draco pulled on a smirk and said, "Interesting, Potter." Said boy was drawn from his state of satiation and froze, his body held tense as his hand was still covering his soft, twitching, and  _wet_  cock.

Draco strode over to the couch, swallowing his nerves as he flopped into the seat beside Potter, picked up the bottle and examined it with practiced nonchalance. "Never thought you could use this for that," he said, gesturing from the bottle to Potter's spent and satisfied dick, which flopped limp between Potter's thighs.

He told himself not to show too much glee at how flustered Potter had gotten. His cheeks were flushed, this time from embarrassment, not from pleasure anymore. His bright, emerald eyes were shining more than ever and Draco could detect fear and excitement from him. He set the bottle down and grabbed Potter's right hand.

Potter's eyes widened a fraction as Draco brought the stained hand to his mouth and lapped at the salty and tangy spunk. It was sticky and thick, and clung like gloop in the spaces between Potter's fingers and Draco's tongue. He bent Potter's fingers into a fist until only his middle finger remained, then brought the sticky, sharp-smelling finger into his mouth.

Potter's breath hitched as Draco suckled on the digit. Draco smirked around Potter's finger, seeing the rosiness return to his cheeks and his pink lips had opened in shock.

"How long..." Potter managed to get out as Draco smirked yet again and raised his eyes to meet Potter's bright green ones. The boy seemed tense and unsure of what to do.

Draco told him the truth in only two words – "Long enough" – and at Potter's horrified expression, Draco leaned closer, "Care to explain, Potter?"

Hell frozen over had nothing on Potter. Potter had snatched his hand and leapt up, stumbling as he did so. His breathing was harsh and ragged, as if trying to control himself, but failing immensely, if the wet-saliva and cum-soaked hand on his chest was any indication of it.

Potter began to stammer and stutter pathetically, his eyes widened with trepidation and fear lining their verdant depths. Whatever had just spilled from his mouth must have asked Draco what he had been doing in their dorms.

Draco, holding back his glee and the shuddering heart that beat wildly in his chest, disciplined himself to remain calm as he explained. When he had reminded Potter that he wanted an explanation, Potter had snapped that he wasn't obliged to as he tightened his robes around his body in an attempt to salvage whatever dignity he had remaining. Or to protect him from Draco... Either way, Draco was absolutely thrilled by this new discovery.

Potter had been wanking off to thoughts of  _him_. Again, his heart began to stutter in his chest and he breathed a great breath of air, feeling it wash down and squeeze through the tight constriction in his throat, sliding silkily into his lungs. He felt a sliver of comfort.

Draco had already stood, he realized, and moved closer to Potter. Half of him wanted to run away, the other half told him to move steadily forward. He wanted this, yet at the same time, he didn't want Potter to run away from him. He'd already been hurting all week. He didn't want to add additional pain to whatever hell he'd put his body through.

But then, one word had spilled from Draco's lips like a defence mechanism had been triggered. "Slut," he had hissed as he grabbed Potter by the front of his robes, drawing their faces closer. He wanted to kiss Potter, he realized. And those evergreen eyes of his had widened even more so, cheeks stained red as pouting lips opened. But not to kiss.

" _What_  did you just call me?" Potter looked indignant, but Draco could feel excitement and anticipation rolling off Potter. It was the same emotion that Potter gave off whenever they'd come across each other in the hallways and prepared to give the other a good tongue-lashing and ego-whittling.

Draco felt a smirk tug at his lips as he leaned closer and repeated, " _Slut_ ," while grabbing Potter's lapel with both hands and shoving him hard against the wall. If this were any other situation where both parties could have possibly been consenting... well, Draco would have been cock-happy. But it wasn't.

Because currently, Potter looked livid. Or was that pain? His eyebrows were furrowed and his nose was scrunched up. The moan that left his mouth seconds later confirmed it for Draco. "A masochist too. Wonders never do cease, do they, Potter?"

Potter looked completely vulnerable and pushed him futilely, whimpering as he stuttered out, "S-stop, Malfoy."

And as he heard those words, the situation came down crashing atop him, hard. Doing this to Potter felt wrong. Despite what had happened with Potter wanking off and calling out his name, Draco felt like he was violating him somehow.

This was a betrayal, both to his best friend and to Potter. Whatever companionship, however small he had forged with Potter, would have crumbled if he continued. Draco didn't want that. Even if he wasn't  _with_  Potter, he  _wanted_  to be with him. Next to him, by his side, even if he wasn't the one that Potter loved.

The feeling that he had felt when he had overheard Hermione and Weasley talking had returned, and in a choked voice, he asked, "Why?"

Potter didn't say anything while Draco had lowered his head, refusing to meet his eyes. Because they would have held disgust for him. Contempt for him. Hatred for him.

"Why what?" Potter whispered and Draco could have sworn he felt Potter's voice tremble as he spoke. Draco lifted his head, his eyes meeting Potter's, begging and pleading that he would see the pain that he held secretly and refused to reveal. Potter's breath had hitched, catching a gasp in his throat as their eyes connected.

Draco felt ashamed as much as he felt exposed. He felt that the moment he had looked at Potter, all his walls had been stripped bare, leaving him naked for Potter to see in his completely vulnerable state. His instinct told him to look away and to hide.

He lowered his head to Potter's soft neck, nuzzling against the skin that he knew he would never touch again. The soft skin slick with a film of sweat dampened the tip of his nose as he ran it across the smooth planes of Potter's neck.

Gently, he pressed his lips softly against Potter's collarbone and held it there for maybe five seconds before he pulled away. He could feel Potter's heart beating rapidly, like a rabbit fleeing from a wolf.

Draco turned Potter's head to the side as he whispered in his ear, "Why do I love you?" before turning and retreating to his room before Potter could  _hopefully_  stop him. But he knew that Potter wouldn't do that.

So resigning to his misery once again, Draco closed the door and locked it, before he brought the covers up over his head and closed himself off from the rest of the world.

* * *

Harry didn't know why, but Malfoy's retreat had put him in a bad mood for the rest of the week. He'd snapped at his friends and classmates, provoked the Slytherins, made enemies with some Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, frightened the first years, and severely pissed off both Snape  _and_  Blaise.

Ron wasn't talking to him, Hermione was currently in her dormitory with Pavarti and Lavender and Seamus, and Dean and Neville had locked him out of the boys' dorm when he'd attempted to talk to them again.

The Gryffindor common room had never been so quiet in all his time at Hogwarts, except for in his first year, when everyone had tried to stare at him. Only this time, people were watching him as if he were about to explode. He felt his eyebrow twitch and stood to leave, feeling slightly hurt that a few first years burst into tears because they thought he was going to hex them all (if the "He's going to hex our bollocks off!" was any clue).

Snorting derisively, Harry stormed out of the portrait hole, slamming the Fat Lady's portrait as he went. "Mr. Potter, that is  _not_  proper conduct!"

Great. Something  _else_  that was angry at him. Ignoring her, he continued to storm on his not-so merry way. He needed to talk to someone. Professor Dumbledore would have to do.

Sighing, Harry made his way through the seventh floor corridors until he encountered an empty hallway with naught but a stone statue of a rather ugly looking gargoyle.

"Sugar Quills," Harry spat out and the sound of stone grinding against stone indicated that the gargoyle was moving away. Harry stepped onto the spiral staircase and waited until he was carried to the top. Having been in Dumbledore's office so many times, Harry was already used to the sensation and no longer felt like he was going to be sick.

The door opened by its own device, like a Muggle electronically-controlled doorway, only with magic. Dumbledore himself was seated behind his large desk, looking quite frazzled with stacks of parchments and scrolls. Harry would have laughed, had he been in a pleasant mood.

"Ah, Harry, my boy, have a seat, have a seat," Dumbledore greeted him warmly where he sat, and gestured to the plush armchairs in front of the huge, lacquered mahogany desk. Without saying anything, Dumbledore summoned some tea and a bowl of assorted Muggle candies while Harry made himself comfortable. "Now, Harry. How can I be of any assistance?"

Harry sucked in a breath and explained to Dumbledore how the week had gone by. Dumbledore had completely ignored his work and paid full attention to Harry, watching him carefully over the top of his half-moon spectacles. His bright blue eyes were twinkling with amusement as the forlorn Harry spilled his heart out, looking the picture of sorrow as he told him how he regretted yelling at his friends or doing any of the provoking towards any students or staff members.

"I understand if you want me to resign from my position as Head Boy, Headmaster. I've... misused it and taken points for petty reasons and... I... don't deserve the position anymore," Harry mumbled, more to himself than to the wise elder that sat before him.

Dumbledore was silent a moment and Harry looked up to see him struggling to un-stick two sherbet lemons that looked like they were infused in the middle. Harry squinted and saw that there was actually  _lint_  decorating the bright yellow sweets. He scrunched his nose.

When Dumbledore sensed that Harry was no longer speaking, he simply shrugged and popped the sherbet lemons, lint and all, into his mouth and began to suck. "So," Dumbledore began, speaking past the rather large sherbet lemons, "Pray tell, Harry, exactly  _how_  did you get put into such a negative disposition?"

Harry sighed. He was hoping this wasn't going to be brought up, but under Dumbledore's stare, he knew that he had to answer. "Um... Malfoy."

"What did Mr. Malfoy do?" Dumbledore inquired, pushing further for a thorough answer. Harry's cheeks flushed and he lowered his eyes to the tea in his hands.

"He... asked why he loves me so much..." Harry whispered, watching his reflection rippling across the clear, ginger-coloured surface of his tea. Dumbledore was still watching him, waiting for more – Harry could feel it. Clearing his throat, he finished his sentence, "And he left before I could tell him how I felt."

Dumbledore was smiling sincerely as Harry rushed to take a large gulp of his tea, wincing as it practically burned his tongue and throat.

"So what are you going to do, Harry?" The headmaster asked him as he fished in the bowl and pulled out a handful of M&M's, before starting to sort them according to colour. Harry watched as he pushed the browns to one side, and the blues to another. The oranges went beside the browns, and the yellows beside the blues. The reds and greens were left together in the middle.

Harry felt his heart warm at the sight and he knew what Dumbledore was trying to say. "Christmas time is coming near. I should like to start decorating soon," Dumbledore sighed as he popped the other coloured chocolates into his mouth, leaving the red and green coloured M&M's behind. "Christmas colours indeed."

Harry stared as Dumbledore summoned a small paper bag and scooped the remaining red and green shelled chocolates inside, before pushing the bag towards Harry.

"What are you going to do, Harry?" Dumbledore repeated, his voice slightly stern but grandfatherly. Harry flashed the headmaster a wide grin, the only one that he'd had that week, and stood.

"I know what I'm going to do. Thanks professor!" and with that, he rushed to the door to get to his destination, the bag of M&M's clutched tightly in his hand.

Dumbledore sighed as he glanced at Fawkes, who was preening in his perch. The phoenix glanced at his master and cocked his head to the side.

The elderly wizard gave his familiar a smile and said to the room, "Actually, I was hoping he was going to offer to help me decorate Hogwarts in time for Christmas, since he is the Head Boy, after all. But oh well. Love is love. Let the children frolic."

Fawkes gave a happy trill from where he was roosted and settled in for some sleep.

* * *

Harry wasn't going to visit Malfoy until he cleared things up with all the others first. He swallowed his pride and made his way down to the dungeons, to visit Professor Snape, and then Blaise.

He could feel a nerve-wracking heat pricking at him on the inside. Seizing what Gryffindor courage he had, he rapped on the door sharply, getting a cold 'Enter' in reply. Harry opened the door to see Snape hunched over his work, just in time to see him rip up a paper in frustration and then mend it again with his wand.

"Professor?" Harry asked timidly, seeing that Snape was obviously in a  _very_  foul mood. Snape's eyes narrowed as soon as he saw Harry's head, and for a moment, Harry wondered if it was possible to rip someone to pieces and then simply magic them back together again, like he'd done to some poor kid's homework.

"What do you want, Potter?" Snape spat out bitterly as Harry entered the room fully and came to stand before him. Harry's eyes drifted down to the paper that had just been fixed and swallowed hard when he saw his name scrawled messily on the top.

"Um... firstly, I deserve that," Harry sighed as he shuffled nervously where he stood. Snape snorted but didn't say anything, clearly waiting for Harry to get to the point. "And um... I've been in a bad mood all week. I guess it's because I had to take on Malfoy's work load as well, and I've been really stressed and-"

"The  _point_ , Potter," Snape said in a low snarl, causing Harry to snap up spine-straight.

"R-right," he stammered, sucking in a deep breath and meeting hooded, fathomless black eyes. "I just wanted to apologize. For this week, for how I've treated you and made you angry. For purposely making my work illegible-"

"You mean this utter crap," Snape hissed, holding up the chicken-feet scrawl that covered Harry's supposed-to-be homework, "was  _deliberate_?"

Harry nodded meekly, seeing his teacher about to reach boiling point. Harry reached out and tentatively touched Snape's shaking hand, pushing it down to the desk. He seemed to be fighting it, but then Harry whispered, "Please," and he relented. Harry could see a vein throbbing in his professor's neck. He must have been pretty pissed off.

"I'm sorry for the way I've acted since my first year here. To be honest, you haven't been exactly pleasant to me, but I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry," Harry finished, giving his Potions professor an awkward smile. Then, as if he had remembered something, he fished through the paper bag, pulled out one of the small, Gryffindor red M&M's and placed it in Snape's hand.

"What's this?" Snape looked at the apology in the form of candy with disgust. "Potter, you know I don't-"

Snape was stopped when Harry took the candy from his hand and promptly placed it in Snape's open mouth, mid-speech. Harry grinned and swooped down to place a kiss on his teacher's lips. He could feel Snape chewing on the chocolate before swallowing.

"Potter..."

"Bye, Snape!" Harry flashed him a grin before sprinting out of the room faster than you could say 'greasy git'.

Luckily for him, his student was already out the door, or else some living soul might have seen the dour Professor Severus Snape actually smile. Seconds later, he turned back to Harry's work and scowled, before awarding him a tiny 'E', accompanied by what some might have considered a plus sign.

* * *

Harry made a detour to the Slytherin common room and debated for a moment if he should go in there and ask for Blaise, until, coincidentally, a door shimmered and opened, and the boy who Harry wanted to see stepped outside with his head down.

Harry cleared his throat and Blaise looked up in surprise, his mouth hanging open before he scowled. "Potter."

"Blaise, don't-" Harry began, looking and sounding extremely hurt by the cold usage of his surname.

"I don't need to hear it. You've pissed me off enough already," Blaise clearly looked upset and he made to skirt around Harry when the raven-haired Gryffindor tugged gently on his elbow. Blaise stopped and looked at the offending limb before raising his gaze to meet Harry's pleading eyes. "Harry..."

"I came to apologize," Harry whispered as he dug around for a red M&M and handed it to him. Blaise stared at the candy in his hand before he ate it, keeping his gaze on Harry.

"Apology eaten," Blaise grinned as he moved closer to Harry and swiftly took his pouting lips into a kiss. Harry moaned as Blaise ran his tongue along the seam of his lips and he opened for his boyfriend. They parted, gasping for a lungful of air. Blaise pressed Harry against the wall, their foreheads connected. Harry had to look cross-eyed to see Blaise clearly. "I missed you all week."

"Mmm..." Harry mumbled as he felt Blaise take his lips again. He shifted and pulled away, raising the bag of sweets to Blaise's eye-level. "I have more apologies to make."

His boyfriend's arm wound around his waist and pulled him closer again. "Not like this, I hope...?"

Harry chuckled and stood on the tips of his toes to kiss Blaise again. "No. Definitely not. Ron and Hermione would kill me," he stuck his tongue out childishly, attempting to wriggle out of Blaise's arms. He let Harry go.

Blaise waved goodbye as Harry ran off to find Ron and Hermione. Sighing, Blaise ran a hand through his hair as he stared after his boyfriend. He turned back to the entrance wall, muttering the password and stepped back in.

"Draco, I think he still likes me. You're obviously wrong," Blaise told the blond who was sitting quietly on the couch. Draco scowled, looking livid.

"How would you know?" Draco whispered in a low voice as he stood face to face against Blaise. The dark Slytherin narrowed his eyes and gestured to the door.

"Just ran into him."

Draco's eyes darkened and he pushed past Blaise to run to the door, flinging it open as he made his way out. Blaise stared after Draco, obviously confused.

There was something going on that he had no clue about. Draco had just come to him and told him to break up with Harry, because Harry wasn't interested in him anymore. But he had just seen Harry and his dark-haired Gryffindor was  _obviously_ very much interested.

Shaking his head, he made his way down to the boy's dorm to take a nap. Honestly, some people were obviously off their rockers these days.

* * *

It didn't take long for Harry to find Ron and Hermione. He didn't want to go to the Gryffindor common room, for one, and he had the niggling feeling that they wouldn't be in Gryffindor Tower.

What would they be doing on a normal day anyway? A light bulb went off in his head. Of course! The library!

He crammed the bag of sweets into his pocket and dashed off, ignoring the shouts for him to stop running in the corridors by the portraits. He arrived at enormous collection of dusty tomes minutes later; even his panting sounded loud in his ears, thanks to the silence of the large room.

Harry walked around for a few minutes, checking to see if they were at any of the outside tables before going further into the library. Ron and Hermione were at their usual table, Hermione studying as Ron snoozed lightly beside her.

Harry gulped and made their way over to them. He pulled out the bag of M&M's and set it on the desk as he sat down across from them. Hermione glanced up and glared at him, nudging Ron awake. The red-head snorted and wiped drool from his face as he sat up, blinking blearily.

"Wha-"

"Ron, Harry's here," Hermione gestured to the dark-haired boy whom they were currently at odds with. Ron sat up straight and stared blankly at Harry before it clicked and he banged his hand on the table loudly.

"What are you doing here?" Ron all but shouted. Hermione turned her glare to Ron and forcefully pushed him down into his seat.

"But Hermione!"

"Sit!" she ordered, her lips pursing as he grumbled audibly and sat down with a large huff. Harry waited patiently as they argued under their breaths before Hermione shook her head and turned back to Harry. "I'm sorry, but Ron's right, Harry. What  _are_  you doing here?"

Harry cut to the chase. "I'm here to say sorry."

"For what?" Ron spat, his face already red. "For making the slimy Slytherins so angry at you that they turned on us? For pissing off Snape so badly that he gave me and Hermione detention  _for sitting with you_? For hurting Hermione's feelings about the 'disgusting crap' she spends her time pouring her heart into? For yelling at your best friend for trying to calm you down when you were screaming at the first years? What, Harry? Tell me what you're sorry for!" Ron screamed again as he stood, his blue eyes flashing with anger and disgust. In the distance, they could hear Madam Pince shouting for whoever was yelling to pipe down.

Harry waited until Ron had his breathing under control before he took out four, Slytherin green M&M's and pushed them to their side of the table. "For all of it, Ron. I know that when you and I get into fights that I'm a stubborn prat that refuses to apologize, but you're right. Everything was completely my fault. If you just give me the time to explain everything to you, I'm hoping that you'll find it in your hearts to forgive me afterwards."

Ron's eyes lit up as soon as he saw the chocolates. "M&M's! They're my favourite!" he all but squealed as he snatched two and gobbled them up. Hermione tentatively reached for the chocolate, but she stopped as her hand hovered over the green shells.

"Do you seriously think that what I write is disgusting?" she asked, watching Harry intently. Harry grinned and shook his head.

"Snape and I have kissed a few times. In fact, I kissed him a few minutes ago," he told her nonchalantly, causing Hermione to grin and pop them into her mouth, while simultaneously causing Ron to spit out bits of broken green shell and melted chocolate blobs.

Harry explained to them about his encounters with Snape while Hermione squealed and set about to write a 'fluffy' piece this time. Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly as Ron made gagging noises in the background.

"So, forgiven?" Harry asked them shyly, with a sly grin on his face. Ron nodded eagerly and held his hand out for more chocolates while Hermione gave him a smile.

"Of course. Always," she told him before she stood up and walked over to his side of the table to engulf him in a warm hug. Ron eyed them carefully and Harry nudged Hermione away.

"Have you told him yet?" he teased, waggling his eyebrows at Hermione, who flushed red. Ron was listening to the quiet conversation intently and sat up alert at Harry's implications.

"Told who what yet? What? Who? Why aren't you telling me anything?!" Ron whined as he shook childishly from side to side. He even threw the pout in, which caused both Hermione and Harry to titter with laughter.

"Go on, 'Mione. I think this should be enough of an apology," Harry smiled genuinely as he stood up to give Hermione a tight hug and pushed her in Ron's direction. The bushy-haired girl stumbled a bit, then turned to glare at Harry, who was already making his way out to give his two best friends some much needed privacy.

"Well, you see Ron... there's someone I like, and..." Hermione's voice drifted away as Harry left the library and finally made his way to their private dorm to see the last person who needed an apology. Clutching the bag of M&M's tightly in his hand, he dashed down to the third floor.

* * *

"Where the bloody hell is he?" Draco hissed under his breath after searching through Gryffindor Tower and then the majority of Hogwarts itself. Being Head Boy  _did_  have some privileges, after all. And it was only fair, since that one time that Harry had barged into the Slytherin common room.

He could only imagine the shock that a few of the first years had gotten upon seeing  _the_  Draco Malfoy, practically the  _prince_  of Slytherin, saunter into their common room. Well, maybe not saunter. More like 'stumble in completely winded and red in the face'. And the red and gold had been  _blinding!_  It was no wonder that Gryffindors turned stupider after their first year.

He'd already been through their dorms, the kitchens, the grounds and Hagrid's Hut, the Quidditch Pitch, Gryffindor Tower, Dumbledore's office, Professor McGonagall's office, the Slytherin common room (on the off-chance that he'd gone back to visit Blaise), Professor Snape's office, and a few other places that he knew that Harry would be until he thought about Hermione and figured that she might be in the library.

He had already known were Hermione liked to work, having watched her too many times to forget, only to run into his old crush and her best friend, Weasley, snogging. He scoffed. It was about bloody time, too!

"Hermione!" he barked, startling the two apart, their faces burning with heavy blushes at being caught. The Weasel had actually backed up and stumbled into his chair, causing himself to tumble over. Hermione couldn't help but giggle at the redhead, and was still laughing as she helped him up.

"Malfoy!" Weasley snarled, pulling out his wand, but Hermione stopped him and sent him back to the table to read a book.

"Draco, is something wrong?" Hermione asked quietly, lowering her head and her voice as she spoke. Draco could tell that she and the Weasley had recently gotten together, since they obviously weren't all over each other over the past week. Asking her to go somewhere private would have probably made the Weasel suspicious.

"Have you seen Po- Harry?" Draco forced the name out, feeling his throat constrict around the name, and his tongue start to tie. Hermione brightened with a smile, and then shot Weasley a glare when he tried to discreetly hex Draco while they had their backs turned.

"Harry?" Hermione frowned as she glanced down at her Muggle wristwatch. She looked thoughtful for a moment, tapping her chin before an expression of realization crossed her face. "Yes, he came through here about... ten to fifteen minutes ago. Why?"

Ten to fifteen minutes ago? He was still searching through Gryffindor Tower! Harry could be  _anywhere_  at that moment!

"Draco?" Draco barely registered the fact that Hermione had touched his shoulder before he flashed her a sincere smile that looked quite rare and then kissed her cheek. In the background, the Weasel squawked angrily and Draco had to duck a well-aimed curse before he left, laughing all the way.

He would have to catch up to Harry later, when they retired to their rooms. Draco sighed into his hand. He just wished he could talk to Harry now. His heart was thudding painfully hard in his chest.

When he had seen Harry pleasuring himself, and then called out his name, Draco had never felt so relieved and happy in his life. Being sorted into Slytherin was expected, and anything after that had merely been for his own personal satisfaction.

Speaking to Hermione and finally confessing to her his love had felt great, and when he had done so, he had felt so glad. But seeing Harry pretty much admit that he had  _some_  liking for Draco – never mind if it was just sexual – made Draco's heart flutter. It was a step in what Draco had hoped was the right direction. For the both of them.

"Tickle my dragon," Draco muttered under his breath to Sir Jean as he blushed. He didn't know why, but the password was kind of cute. Especially since Harry was the one who picked it (though at the time, it had been completely without Draco's knowledge, leaving him locked out for a few hours during the day).

He stepped in, prepared to go to bed to rest after having searched pretty much everywhere, until he heard a quiet sob and then mumbled words coming from the hallway where their private bedrooms were.

Stealthily, Draco made his way over to the break in the wall, close enough to see and hear without being noticed.

What he saw caused his heart to catch in his throat. Harry was leaning against the bottom of  _his_ door, Draco's door, slumped on the floor with his back facing Draco. Harry's smaller frame shook as he sobbed, thinking, yet again, that he was alone. He had his head cradled in one hand, while the other caressed the wood of Draco's doorframe.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." he apologized to the door over and over again. "I know I probably made you mad, Draco, but please come out so I can talk to you properly!"

Draco's mouth dropped open in what would have been a comical expression, had it not been for the fact that no one was around to see it, since Harry face facing the other way.

Draco's voice cracked as he spoke. "H-Harry?"

* * *

Harry was determined to talk to Draco, even if it meant having to hex the door open and drag him out. Okay, maybe  _not_  hex the door open, coz then he would have been pissed, but at least do something to get the blond's attention. After apologizing to all these people, Harry felt like his pride had somewhat gone down the metaphorical drain.

But it was worth it. At least those people didn't  _hate_  him, anymore (he was sure that Snape had to at least  _like_  him, a little bit). Still, there was currently one person he was sure who wouldn't want to talk to him, and that was Draco.

"Tickle my dragon," Harry flashed Sir Jean a grin as the suit of armour moved aside. Sir Jean laughed as Harry started bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Someone's happy," came the disembodied voice. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask. Why 'Tickle my dragon' for a password, Harry?"

Harry paused as a faint blush rose to his cheeks. He scratched the tip of his nose sheepishly and smiled. "Because it means a lot to me."

"Ah, I understand," and with that, the armour saluted him and Harry clambered through. Another smile, this time hopeful, crept onto his face as he fingered the bag of chocolates with happiness.

This time, Harry knew why his heart was thumping so loudly in his chest. He knew why it was beating so fast. He knew why there was a terribly embarrassing blush on his face and he knew why there was a bounce in his step. And he knew exactly what, or rather, who, had put the smile on his lips.

It wasn't until he was standing outside of Draco's door that he realized he had no idea what on earth he was going to say to the blond.

I like you too. That wouldn't work.

I love you. A bit too much.

Listen you bastard- Don't even go there.

I think you're hot. Inflate his ego, why don't you?

I think we should- no...

I think I could- no...

I think you would- no...

Gah. Gryffindors shouldn't be meant to think so hard. Merlin! Why in the seven hells was this so difficult? He suddenly had a new level of respect for Draco, when he had confessed to Hermione. It took guts. And he didn't know what to say.

Oh well. Usually whatever came to mind worked for him (although, in some cases, it did land him in severe trouble...). He knocked loudly on the door to gain Draco's attention. There was no response.

"Malfoy?"

Again, nothing.

He knocked again. And then again. And again. And again, and again, and again. But nothing. Not even a cough, or a 'go away, Potter, I don't want to talk to you'. Harry felt a cold feeling of dread wash over him.

He understood the pettish hated that had existed between him and Draco, but this was ridiculous. Over the past three months, he and Draco had learned to respect each other somewhat and they never argued like they used to. And when they did, it was when both of them were in a rather foul-tempered mood.

"Malfoy? Please answer."

Silence. Harry bit his lip nervously. Did Draco really hate him? Think he was repulsive? Despise, loathe, abhor, detest- He flushed the thought from his mind. He had to try.

"Malfoy!" Harry shouted, pounding on the door. Maybe Draco was asleep. Harry hoped he was. What if there was a silencing spell? "Malfoy! Malfoy!"

Yet it was the same every time. Futile. He kicked the door in frustration after knocking and pounding and slapping and punching the wooden door for the umpteenth time. He turned to see if Blue could tell him if Draco was pissed at him, but the portrait of the haystack was missing the boy.

"Malfoy, please open this door!" Harry yelled, pressing his forehead against the wood. "Please... Draco, please."

What if Draco was ignoring him?  _Why_  would he ignore him, anyway? They hadn't been fighting, not in the true sense of the word. He'd given Draco the cold shoulder all week, because of the 'incident' as he had branded it. Or rather, Draco's retreat after the incident. Then again, it was Harry's fault for not going after Draco, but it just didn't seem like the appropriate time to talk to him. Harry was still shocked and humiliated.

He snorted. Forget humiliation. That was what he had wanted for Draco, right? His eyes began to blur as he stared at the plaque bearing Draco's name. Reverently, he touched it with his fingertip and felt the cool metal sliding under his finger.

But he didn't want to humiliate Draco anymore. He wanted to be Draco's friend. He was sick and tired of always having to walk on eggshells whenever things got tense between them, and he was exhausted from having to constantly fight with him.

The burn of the wood grating against his forehead didn't register to him as he slid down the length of the door, crumbling to the floor in a suddenly sobbing fit. He couldn't blink back the tears anymore. He wouldn't even  _deny_  the fact that he was crying.

Why did this have to hurt so much? His chest was painfully heavy, as if someone was sitting on it, squashing the air out of him, forcing him to gasp in short, quick breaths. His throat began to constrict and it became unbearable trying to hold in his cries as he stubbornly kept his mouth shut.

His nose was starting to clog with mucus and he gasped for air, weeping at the same time. This was so... Harry couldn't name it. It wasn't  _stupid_ , but rather... weak. Harry knew that he was stronger than this.

But Draco...

Draco wasn't responding to him. Draco didn't want anything to do with him.

Why should Harry care? He had Blaise, for Salazar's sake! And he'd been with him for a long time now. Shouldn't... shouldn't that amount to anything?

He was scared. Scared that his heart was beating erratically in his chest – faster than it had when he'd kissed Cho, and then Ginny. Faster than when he had faced off Voldemort, faster than when he'd kissed Snape, and...

It beat a lot faster than when he was with Blaise.

And it was all for Draco Malfoy.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. Why had he gone out with Blaise in the first place anyway? He didn't want to dump Blaise, because Blaise had done nothing wrong. Blaise was, surprisingly, very faithful and loyal to Harry and never went astray. Blaise never got angry at him unless Harry had done something terribly wrong. Blaise was perfect company to keep around, Blaise was vulgar yet polite. Blaise was the perfect boyfriend and Harry...

Harry didn't want the perfect boyfriend. He didn't want Blaise.

"Please Draco... please, please, open this door. Let me see you... please," Harry screamed hoarsely as he banged the door yet again. "Stop hiding from me! What did I do? I know you may be mad..." Harry choked back the urge to be sick as he stared at the unmoving door with blurred vision. There were droplets of tears on his glasses, and even more glassed across the surface of his eyes. "Damn you! Open up, Draco! I'm begging you..."

His voice trailed off as he slumped against the door, one hand caressing the wood as if it would suddenly open if he was nice to it. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. If I did so something wrong, please forgive me. If I upset you, if I pissed you off, if I disgust you, if I made you angry, or jealous, or hurt – I'm sorry."

Harry licked dry lips, the wet tears which were rapidly drying were caking uncomfortably to his face. Still, he held onto the door like a lifeline.

"I just... maybe... I might like you too..." the last part came out as a soft whisper, almost inaudible as Harry felt his determination crumble.

" _You are the one, the one who lies close to me, whispers hello I miss you quite terribly..."_

Harry whirled around to see a familiar blond leaning against the wall for support. His eyes were shining yet again, no longer dull and there was a beatific smile spread across his face.

"I..." Harry's mouth had dropped open, at a complete loss for words. Draco smirked, but it wasn't a teasing gesture, merely something that felt comfortable for him. Harry sniffled. "Were you just singing a  _Muggle_  song?"

"Tell anyone and I'll hex you," Draco warned as he took a tentative step closer. Harry didn't move from his position in front of Draco's door and he watched Draco warily. Finally, Draco was only a few steps away, when Harry smiled and lifted his arms.

Draco took the hint and kneeled in front of Harry before he wrapped his arms around the slighter boy. "M'sorry, too," he breathed out, feeling relief as he held Harry's head to his chest.

"For what?" Harry mumbled into the fabric of Draco's shirt. He sniffed and wiped his nose on Draco, but the blond didn't seem to notice. He felt Draco's arms tighten around him comfortably.

"For... I dunno. You were apologizing so much, I just thought that I might say sorry for having you wait outside my door when I wasn't even in there," Draco chuckled as Harry pulled out of the embrace and glared up at him.

"That's right, you bastard! You weren't even in the room and I was-" Draco gave him a smile as he leaned in and pressed his lips gently against Harry's.

"Shut up, Potter," he whispered against pink lips, which moved soundlessly against his, opening and closing in shock. Draco kissed Harry again, this time gaining more confidence as he did so.

" _I fell in love, in love with you suddenly, that there's no place else I could be but here in your arms_ ," Harry's voice was croaky from his crying and a little off pitch, but Draco understood and he pulled Harry even closer, if it were possible.

"I missed you," Draco whispered against Harry's feathery hair. He pressed a kiss to the crown of Harry's head. "Can we stop singing Muggle songs now?"

Harry laughed through his tears and sniffed, then wiped his face in the folds of his sleeves. "Potter, that's vile."

"Mmm-hmm," Harry ignored him as he stood shakily. Draco grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he opened the door to his room and pulled Harry inside. "What are you doing?"

"You know how the song goes," Draco smirked a bit and pulled Harry to his bed. Harry wondered if they were going too fast, but then Draco pulled him into his arms and he quieted. He leaned into Draco's warmth, waiting for Draco to move.

"I think our cheeks are supposed to brush," Harry pointed out dryly as he shifted so that he was facing Draco. The blond's eyebrow quirked up, as if he were expecting something else. Harry blushed as he sat up and he avoided the piercing, stormy grey gaze as he murmured, "And our lips can touch..."

"Mmm-hmm," Draco hummed as he reached out to grasp the back of Harry's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. "Let them."

Harry stopped. "Wait."

Draco's smile faltered as Harry sat back up. His heart was hammering hard in his chest as he pulled out the bag that Dumbledore had given him.

"What, Harry?" Draco sounded a little apprehensive as he eyed the bag with curiosity. Harry gave him a smile and then gave him a Gryffindor red... candy, by the looks of it. "What is this?"

"Muggle sweets," Harry replied as he plucked out a green coloured M&M and popped it into his mouth. Draco's nose scrunched up with disgust.

"I hate Muggle sweets," he pointed out, giving the innocent, round chocolate in his hand a hateful glare. Harry shrugged as he plucked it out of his hand.

"Mine then," he smirked as he put it into his mouth. Draco cocked an eyebrow, then grinned devilishly as he reached up and took Harry's head between his hands and pulled the other boy close enough to kiss.

"Mine, then," Draco repeated, and seized Harry's lips in a searing kiss, soft flesh moving against each other, melding each other, opening to each other. Harry felt himself turn to jelly as Draco's tongue slid in and searched his mouth for a moment before drawing away. Harry blinked as Draco licked his lips. "Maybe I'll start to like these Muggle sweets of yours."

It took Harry a moment to realize that the M&M in his mouth was gone. He playfully smacked Draco's arm and laughed. "Git!"

Draco gave him a lazy smile and then pulled him down so that Harry was lying against him. "Your git," he breathed into Harry's ear, before he gathered Harry into his arms and rested on his shoulder. "Let's sleep. Please?"

Harry acquiesced with a sleepy nod. He was exhausted after having to track down everyone, especially after exerting himself with Draco's door. Feeling the arms around his waist tighten, Harry leaned back into Draco's embrace, feeling sleep enclose around him swiftly for the first time in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rice-Ball247: Urgh, shoot me. Please. I can't believe I wrote that. Actually, I can. Because I was like, what. 15 when I wrote this?! Or 16, maybe. Who knows. I need to do a severe rewrite. But I'm not even entitled to that yet!


	14. Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: slash and the slightest hint of plottin, short chapter

_**Last time...** _

Draco gave him a lazy smile and then pulled him down so that Harry was lying against him. "Your git," he breathed into Harry's ear, before he gathered Harry into his arms and rested on his shoulder. "Let's sleep. Please?"

Harry acquiesced with a sleepy nod. He was exhausted after having to track down everyone, especially after exerting himself with Draco's door. Feeling the arms around his waist tighten, Harry leaned back into Draco's embrace, feeling sleep enclose around him swiftly for the first time in a long while.

* * *

 

**Chapter Thirteen: Understanding**

Harry woke up the next morning – thankfully a Saturday – and stretched, freezing as he felt a comfortable weight resting on his waist and warmth against his back. Steady breathing fluttered sensually against the skin at the nape of his neck. From his position, he could clearly see that the room he was in wasn't his.

The arms around his waist loosened somewhat as Harry shifted to face Draco, but then tightened as soon as Harry was chest to chest with the blond. A quicksilver eye slid open from behind a screen of pale white skin and sooty eyelashes.

"Mornin'," Harry mumbled to Draco, who scrunched up his nose and turned away. Harry frowned.

"You have the worst morning breath, Potter," Draco teased as Harry gave an indignant scoff. He wiggled around in Draco's arms but found himself unable to move. He didn't want to move.

"You have nice sheets," Harry commented as he snuggled deeper into Draco's bed cover and entangled his jean-clad legs with Draco's own, still encased in his trousers. Draco pinched him gently.

"Stop talking."

"But-"

Draco sighed and kissed him until he was quiet again. Harry's eyes fluttered open after a while to see Draco watching him with an amused expression. "Shhh, Harry."

Harry blinked as Draco unravelled his arms from him and moved away, sliding off the robes that he still wore from yesterday. He watched from the bed as Draco stretched in a cat-like manner and started to pull off his shirt, in front of him.

Realizing that Draco was about to strip, Harry's cheeks turned a rather bright shade of red and he dashed to his own room to get changed, squeaking out "Sorry!" as he went.

Draco chuckled as he watched Harry retreat to his own room before he pulled his shirt off completely. He was beginning to wonder if he should put on a strip show for the other boy.

They met in front of their doors as soon as they were done and Harry couldn't help the blush that rose to his cheeks, and then dove down to his neck and lower. Draco quirked an eyebrow.

"Something wrong?" Draco asked as he began to walk to the main area with Harry in tow. Harry paused, wondering if he should voice the question that had been dancing around in his head. It had only occurred to him five minutes ago and already it was starting to drive him insane.

"Yes," Harry sighed as Draco stopped and turned, looking slightly concerned. Harry averted his gaze as he gestured to the couch. They both sat down silently and an awkward silence took over. Draco was drumming his hand on his knee, waiting for Harry to speak.

"Well?" Draco was a bit impatient and the fact that Harry looked like he was about to do something he would regret was starting to bite at his nerves. Harry swallowed.

"Well... I like you and you like me," Harry ignored Draco's snort, "And I guess that means that we like each other," – here, Draco's eyebrows rose skyward – "no comments please," Draco nodded uncertainly as Harry ran a hand through his hair, then stood up and sat down, then stood up and began to pace the floor.

"Harry, sit down. You're making me nervous," Draco told him bluntly. Whenever Draco was nervous he would shift a lot; his fingers would drum against his knee, his eyes would wander, his foot would tap on the floor and a few other things that he had yet to notice.

Harry sat down and then stood up again as if he had been burned. He looked like he was going to do something that was a cross between screaming and crying – perhaps really  _loud_  crying.

"Harry...?" Draco's voice was never timid. Heck, he was rarely ever timid, but he really felt as if something was about to go wrong.

Harry jumped at the sound of his name, then pivoted where he stood and blurted out, "What about Blaise?!"

"What about-" Draco had to interrupt himself when the situation finally dawned on him. He paled as Harry started to pull at his own hair and began to pace again. "Harry, you can't seriously be thinking of-"

"I'll  _hurt_  him, Draco!" Harry looked like he was at a complete loss. "I cheated on him with- with you! And with Snape!"

" _Snape_?" Draco spat out with shock as he stood, eyes wide in shock. Harry didn't even clamp a hand over his mouth; if he did, he reckoned that the situation would have gotten worse.

" _Yes_ , Snape! Tall, thin, and greasy? Ring any bells? How about scary and gothic? Or-"

"Okay, okay! Harry, stop!" Draco ordered, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger as he collapsed back into his seat with a mixture of shock and disbelief. Harry sucked in a shuddering breath then let it all out seconds later and waited until Draco had looked at him again, which only resulted in making his knees grow weak.

"What do I do?" he moaned hopelessly as he dropped into the seat beside Draco. The blond was silent as he watched Harry put his face in his hands. There was complete silence in the room except for the sounds of Harry's shaky breathing and, in Draco's own ears, his beating heart.

Draco didn't know what  _to_  say. Blaise was  _still_  his best friend, even if they had a bit of a disagreement. But he liked Harry, and in his heart, knew that the liking he felt for the Gryffindor was rapidly turning into something else. When did it start? He had liked Hermione first, but somewhere along the way, Harry had managed to worm his way into the picture.

Had it been jealousy? Was he jealous of the fact that Blaise had Harry while he was still alone? Had he wanted Harry because Hermione had rejected him?  _Why_  had he felt relieved when Hermione had turned him away, anyway? If he were any other person, Draco would have cried in frustration and pulled at his hair – which, by the way, was exactly what Harry was doing right now.

"Harry..." Draco started, his voice betraying how he felt and what he was about to say, "If... if you don't want to break up with Blaise, I understand. I mean, just yesterday you were snogging him-"

"Draco, that doesn't help!" Harry snapped angrily, glaring at the blond with gritted teeth. Draco edged away slightly and sighed.

"But anyway, if you don't want to break up with him, I'll understand," Draco mumbled, half wishing that Harry had heard him so that he wouldn't have to repeat himself, and half hoping that Harry hadn't heard him, so that Harry wouldn't think he was resigning so easily.

Harry jolted and stood up, his verdant eyes flashing angrily, "That's the point, you git! I want  _YOU_! But I have no idea how I'm going to tell Blaise! He's been so good to me! And he's been faithful-"

At Draco's snort, Harry turned his eye suspiciously to Draco. "You know something that I don't know, don't you," it was a statement, not a question, so Draco didn't feel obliged to answer. "What's going on, Draco?"

Draco paused for a moment, wondering if he  _should_  be telling this to Harry, but if it meant that he'd get the boy in the end..."Well, why don't we wait and see, Harry. I'd rather you see it with your own eyes and believe me, than hear it from me and get angry _at_  me."

Harry felt his body grow cold and he visibly paled. Unless he was completely dense and an idiot (which he should have been, if he hadn't noticed it by now), all the hints and signs that Draco was dropping were pointing to the fact that Blaise wasn't exactly as monogamous as Harry thought.

* * *

 

"So how do you plan on catching him out?" Hermione whispered conspiratorially to Harry later on as they worked on their weekend homework for Potions. Harry's hand halted whatever he was writing and sighed, dropped his head on the table and barely missed the wet ink of his parchment.

"I don't know. I'm so fucked up. This is so fucked up. What the fuck am I gonna do?" Harry mumbled into the table. The 'scritch-scratch-scritch' of Hermione's quill stopped and Harry listened to her as she heaved a sigh.

"Well, you can start by stopping with all your swearing." Harry shot her a glare but she ignored it and prodded Ron with the nib of her quill, "Then we can wake up Ron and brainstorm something together."

The redhead in question snorted in his repose and batted at Hermione's quill, but Hermione became insistent and poked him a little harder. Finally Ron, a little bleary-eyed and groggy, came to and rubbed his eyes with a simultaneous yawn.

"Ronald, we're going to help Harry," Hermione informed him promptly when she felt he was coherent enough to understand. Ron stifled a second yawn and blinked before the words settled in and he sat attentively.

"What's wrong with Harry?" he asked, turning to Hermione instantly.

"Harry is," Hermione halted a moment, glancing at the dark-haired boy, "Harry and," yet another hesitant pause.

"Well, what's wrong with Harry?" Ron queried to Hermione yet again, causing Harry to scowl.

"Well, Harry is-"

"Right here, if you don't mind. Stop talking as if I'm not," Harry snapped, giving Hermione a reproachful look. She had the good grace to look sheepish and gestured for Ron to pay attention to him instead.

"Nothing's wrong with me really. It's just," Harry took a surreptitious glance around the library. "Remember how I apologized to the both of you yesterday?"

At both Ron and Hermione's nods, Harry continued, drawing in a deep breath, "Well, I... I apologized to Draco as well," here, Hermione had to nudge Ron to keep him quiet when he opened his mouth with furrowed brows. The use of Draco's first name didn't go unnoticed.

"And?" Hermione prompted him with a small wave of her hand. Harry licked his chapped lips and his throat suddenly felt parched.

"I... we..." he glanced first from the paleness of Ron's face to the bright, expectant face of Hermione, "kissed," he finished lamely, darting his gaze to the little chip on his right thumb nail which he had bitten out of nervousness.

A tense silence fell over the three of them. Harry shyly lifted his eyes, although it was still hidden beneath the rim of his fringe. Hermione was smiling at him, but she was completely oblivious to the disgust on Ron's face.

"What ever happened to humiliating him?" he asked quietly, keeping his eyes steady with Harry's. Harry took a moment to think.

When  _had_  things changed?

Now that he thought back on it, he hadn't been able to pinpoint an exact time when he' fallen in...  _like_  with Draco. He knew exactly what he had been doing when he realized that he did like Draco; a short chat in Dumbledore's office had settled that.

But when had he  _actually_  come to like the Slytherin?

Harry subconsciously gnawed on his bottom lip as he mulled things over. Perhaps in Hogsmeade? No. Harry was too horrified by Draco's... actions... at the time to really think about liking him. When they were in Hogsmeade, Draco was still 'ferret-face' to Harry.

What made Harry think even harder was when had Draco started to like him, to the point of falling in love with him? Wasn't he...

... in love with Hermione?

When had he fallen  _out_  of love with her?

"I don't know. I just... I like Draco now. But I'm still with Blaise and-"

"Bloody hell," Ron suddenly swore as he leapt to his feet. He took one glance at Harry, frowned and then stormed away. Hermione's mouth had dropped open.

"Erm... perhaps he needs a little time to himself to come to terms with things, Harry," she gave him an encouraging smile. But instead of it reassuring Harry, his stomach plummeted instead.

"Yeah. I hope so, too..."

Hermione shifted in her plushy seat, took one glance at her homework, and then let out a frustrated sigh. "I can't do this anymore," left her lips before she started rolling up the already dried parchments and carefully stashed them in her book bag. Harry suspected that it was more to give her hands something to do because Hermione never 'couldn't do homework', or else she just wouldn't be Hermione.

When she was finally done packing her things away by hand she turned to Harry and they smiled awkwardly at each other.

"Don't worry about Ron, Harry. I'll talk to him about it tonight. What needs your attention currently is the situation with Blaise," Hermione spoke quietly, glanced right and left before she shook her head and stood. "We need somewhere more private for this. The common room is too crowded at this hour."

"Room of Requirement?" Harry lifted his head. Hermione worried her bottom lip between two rows of now straight teeth. She pondered it for a moment before suggesting his bedroom.

"Draco's doing his homework in the dorm. I'd rather not talk to him about this right now," Harry said quietly. Hermione accepted this and the two agreed on the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor.

Hermione stood aside as Harry paced the length of the blank wall thrice, concentrating hard of a room for privacy until oak, double doors materialized in the wall. Harry seized one doorhandle immediately and it opened without protest.

"So what do I do about Blaise?" Harry sighed as he ran a hand through his already unruly hair. Hermione gestured for him to sit down, which he did reluctantly.

"We have to catch him out somehow," Hermione met his gaze steadily and the two nodded. "But he's a Slytherin. If he's cheating on you, Harry, and we haven't had any inkling of this whatsoever so far, then he's being slippery and slimy about it to have gotten away with it."

"Slytherins," Harry sighed, dropping his head into the palm of his hand. His life just  _had_  to revolve around  _them_ didn't it?

"We need to plan something. I don't think Blaise suspects that you suspect. When was the last time you saw him?" Hermione inquired as she resumed her pacing a little closer to the fireplace where the warmth was of great comfort.

"Yesterday. I went to Snape first to apologize, then to Blaise. And after that you and Ron, then Draco," Harry recited off the top of his head. Hermione nodded, glanced at him again and tapped her chin.

"So if he's alright with it, then I don't think he suspects anything. How did he react when he saw you?"

"Angry, at first. But then I apologized and we kissed," Harry admitted, feeling his cheeks grow warm. Hermione nodded absently and went over to an armchair beside Harry, drawing her legs up under her.

"To be honest, Harry, I'm... not very good at this sort of thing. I know that over the years you, Ron, and I have been able to catch others red-handed – we've been sneaky in that respect, but we don't have a lot going for you if it turns out that Blaise  _isn't_ cheating," Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione held up her hand to stop him, "And I know you like Draco and somehow trust his judgement in a way; after all, he's Blaise's best friend. I respect him as a friend as well, but we can't be entirely sure. If... if it turns out that Blaise is faithful to you, what will he think if you suspect him of cheating? He'll think that you don't trust him at all."

Harry contemplated it a moment, his eyes drawn to the fireplace as Hermione looked on with worry written upon her face.

"I... I like Draco," Harry finally said a minute later, licking his dry lips as he fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

"That wasn't said with a lot of conviction," Hermione pointed out, which caused Harry to sigh.

"I like him. Draco. I like Draco, a lot," he told her with finality in his tone. He realized what his fingers were doing, wrinkling his shirt, so he wrenched them apart and kept them firmly by his side. "That's enough for me to go through with it."

He turned to Hermione to see a wry smile on her lips. "Why Harry, I wonder if you really should have been in Slytherin. You and your backup plans."

"It's not really much of a backup plan," Harry grinned at her before the expression faded and he began to worry again, "It's... I'm just really hoping that Draco really likes me. He told me in an indirect way that he loves me."

"Oh really?" Hermione sounded genuinely surprised and interested, "how?"

"I guess that saying 'Why do I love you?' is a roundabout way of saying that he does," Harry explained, laughing as he heard the squeal that Hermione emitted.

"That's so sweet Harry! So he loves you, obviously. What are you going to do then?" Hermione asked him finally, causing Harry to draw in a breath, before he seemed to deflate with a long-suffering sigh.

"I don't know. I want to be with Draco, but Blaise..."

Hermione gave him  _the_  look, which in turn made him hold up his hands defensively as he stood, and then brushed the invisible lint off his shirt.

"Okay. Just let me sleep on it tonight and tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow then," Hermione said with conviction and the two stood to depart from the room.

The moment they stepped outside, however, there was a shout and a misfired blaze of red ricocheted off the wall, mere centimetres in front of Harry's face, and smashed the man-sized vase at the end of the corridor to smithereens.

Harry jumped back in shock as Hermione screamed and pulled him back against the door the Room of Requirement, which unfortunately had already vanished. Across from them in the tapestry, Barnabas the Barmy and his dancing trolls whimpered and huddled to one side fearfully.

Harry turned to see the direction of the misfired spell to see Ron, chest heaving and his wand pointed towards them. His blood turned cold.

"Ron what the-"

"Harry! Move!" Ron shouted, his snarl furious as his eyes burned on something behind Harry's head. Harry ducked as he heard Ron cast Stupefy and the hex shot through the air and smashed harmlessly against the wall once more. He turned to see the target of Ron's hexes.

And froze yet again.

"Blaise...?" he croaked out, his eyes widening in shock.

What the hell was going on?!


	15. All Sorted Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Note from FF.N]
> 
> Rice-Ball247: Hmm, wouldn't be surprised if there aren't any readers anymore. I lost the hard drive that this story was saved on and only managed to find a few chapters (like, 3?) that had been in 'first stages' of writing, which I will try going over later this week. There are no excuses other than I lost the will to write back in 2010. Uni hit me hard and I guess you can say I've changed as a person since the last time this was updated. One thing that hasn't changed, thankfully, is my love for slash and Harry Potter fanfiction.
> 
> Again, I'm so, so sorry to my readers who I left hanging. I guess the reason why I was prompted to try and restore these files is because (strangely enough) I got into a debate with someone over 50 Shades of Gray (Twilight Fanfiction), and she had insulted fanfiction altogether. I couldn't let that stand and so, four years later, I've been inspired take up fanfiction writing again.
> 
> This fanfiction: I am uncertain which direction I will take with this fanfic in the future, since the plot-line I wrote out is lost to the universe. I really don't want to leave it to die as my younger self did before, but my writing has changed, and the story was full of plot holes. Rereading this in the past week made me cringe. Did I really write this? Yes. So this may be up for a rewrite, with better thought out scenes and dialogue, and not too much OOC-ness.
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Never have, never will. Thank you J.K. Rowling, you blessed woman.
> 
> Warning: Unbeta-d, old, old, old work written by me when I was probably 16. OOC, oh and slash, if you haven't worked that out already.

_**Last time...** _

The moment they stepped outside, however, there was a shout and a misfired blaze of red ricocheted off the wall, mere centimetres in front of Harry's face, and smashed the man-sized vase at the end of the corridor to smithereens.

Harry jumped back in shock as Hermione screamed and pulled him back against the door the Room of Requirement, which unfortunately had already vanished. Across from them in the tapestry, Barnabas the Barmy and his dancing trolls whimpered and huddled to one side fearfully.

Harry turned to see the direction of the misfired spell to see Ron, chest heaving and his wand pointed towards them. His blood turned cold.

"Ron what the-"

"Harry! Move!" Ron shouted, his snarl furious as his eyes burned on something behind Harry's head. Harry ducked as he heard Ron cast Stupefy and the hex shot through the air and smashed harmlessly against the wall once more. He turned to see the target of Ron's hexes.

And froze yet again.

"Blaise...?" he croaked out, his eyes widening in shock.

What the hell was going on?!

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: All Sorted Out**

Harry turned from one side of the corridor to the other – from his boyfriend to his best friend – with incredulousness written clearly upon his face.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Harry cried as Blaise stared first at him and then snarled at Ron.

"You fucking-"

"He's my best friend you arsehole! Don't play around with Harry, or with the rest of the Gryffindors or you'll regret it!" Ron's sneer was worthy of Snape or Draco, because the killing intent came across just as fierce.

"What the fuck is happening?!" Harry bellowed once more, causing a silence that felt like an anvil had dropped upon each of them to be felt. He turned his furious gaze to Ron first, who kept his glare upon Blaise, then turned to see the Slytherin draw his wand. "Expelliarmus!"

The wand flew out of Blaise's grip and Harry reached out to catch the weapon before any of them could react. Blaise turned accusing eyes on Harry.

"What are you doing? He's going to hex me and I'm defenceless!" he shouted furiously, storming up the corridor towards them. Hermione was already on her feet and cried out, "Petrificus Totalus!"

All of Blaise's muscles seized up and he froze, all limbs becoming rigid as he eventually lost his balance and fell. Harry winced as his boyfriend hit the floor.

"I want an explanation for all this," came a calm sounding voice from behind Ron. All three turned to see Professor Dumbledore, flanked by a shocked Professor McGonagall and a furious looking Professor Snape. "My office, now."

There were only a handful of times when Harry had heard this tone, but he'd never felt so small in his life. He couldn't imagine how Ron must have felt, or Hermione, since she had cast the last spell.

Dumbledore released the full-body bind on Blaise and the boy sneered at Ron before turning his gaze to Harry.

"You..."

Harry stared helplessly at him and turned away, following the Headmaster to his office just a few corridors away. Professor McGonagall ushered the three Gryffindors in front of her while Professor Snape made sure that Blaise stayed beside him at all times.

"Taste the rainbow," Dumbledore revealed his new password and the stone gargoyle moved aside to reveal the moving spiral staircase. He ushered the Gryffindors in first, followed by Professor McGonagall, then Blaise and then Professor Snape. He took up the rear until they reached his office, all seated on opposite sides according to house.

The silence in the office lingered. Apparently it was Fawkes' burning day, because the usual fiery phoenix that was perched on the roost wasn't there and the pile of ashes was the telltale sign.

"Care to explain yourself, Mr. Zabini?" Dumbledore turned to the Slytherin first, which caused Professor Snape to snort with derision.

The dark-skinned Slytherin glared at the Headmaster for the span of four heartbeats before he turned his gaze to Harry. "I think Weasley should explain himself first. He's the one who prompted the  _assault_."

Ron's face reddened and Hermione pressed a hand into his, a sign to keep his temper in check. Harry was angry as well, but mostly a little confused. He was furious at  _both_  Blaise and Ron.

What had happened while he and Hermione were in the Room of Requirement?

He was angry at his best friend because Ron had fired hexes at his boyfriend.

He was angry at his boyfriend because Blaise had retaliated and wanted to put all the blame on his best friend.

Dumbledore paused a moment, scanning his no-longer twinkling eyes over Blaise first before they rested upon Harry, Hermione and finally, Ron. "I do believe that the situation needs to be explained soon. Firing hexes at other students in the school corridors are strictly prohibited, especially when those involved are in their seventh year. You do realize that it is punishable by expulsion?"

His soft words lingered threatening in the air, grasping them like old, yet powerful withered hands. Harry licked his suddenly dry lips as Dumbledore seemed to stare right through him. "Mr. Weasley, you may begin, then."

Ron took a moment to pause and when he began, his voice was a little hesitant. He turned his gaze to Harry, who of course, had no idea what message his friend was trying to convey. Ron looked a little disheartened, sighed and then began his explanation.

"I'm sure it has come to your attention that Harry and Zabini are..." Ron waved his hand around as he tried to put his thoughts into words, until whom else, but Snape, put him out of his misery.

"I believe the term that Mr. Weasley is looking for is 'in a relationship', Albus," he bit out dryly, his dark eyes flickering over his Slytherin student first before resting on Harry.

"Y-yeah," Ron stuttered, sighing at the end as he gave Harry an apologetic smile. Harry shrugged and the silence in the room that followed left room for much more to be said. Finally, Ron spoke up again, "Anyway, Harry and Zabini were... in a relationship," he spat the word out with a glare towards the Slytherin before continuing, "A week ago, Harry had a bit of a temper."

Harry's drifting gaze snapped back to Ron and raised an eyebrow, but Ron wasn't looking at him, staring resolutely at the Headmaster instead. "He and Zabini got into a fight, they took the chance to have a little 'time apart'."

Harry froze and turned to stare incredulously at Blaise, who was slowly sinking lower and lower into his seat. He had a sneaking suspicion where Ron was going with this...

"While they were cooling off, Zabini here had a little  _conquest_ ," Ron spat out the word with disgust, turning furious eyes on Harry's boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend now, if Harry had anything to say about it. The room went silent and Harry could practically feel the rolling of Snape's eyes, the darkening of McGonagall's; the anger rolling off Ron and Blaise who was absolutely seething.

Hermione was glancing over them with an analytical gaze that rivalled Dumbledore's. And to be honest, Harry was feeling rather numb.

"Who?" Harry whispered as he glanced at Blaise nervously. He didn't want to meet Blaise's dark eyes, for fear that they would see right through him. Part of him was relieved – this was what he wanted, right? Yet a much smaller part of him was angry that Blaise had cheated on him  _before_  Harry had done anything with Draco. Well, anything serious, anyway.

Blaise was silent and he shifted uncomfortably when he realized that all eyes were on him. For a usually confident Slytherin, Blaise was feeling a little in too deep in hot water, so he felt himself to be rather severely outnumbered.

"Go on, tell us, Zabini," Ron sneered angrily, his fists clenching on the armrests. "Tell us, tell him. Tell  _Harry_  who you've corrupted this time."

"Mr. Weasley, that is enough. Five points from Gryffindor, for provoking a student," Professor McGonagall snapped out hastily, weary of the fact that Snape looked like he wanted to dock a little bit  _more_  than just five points, if the sour curling of his lips was any indication.

Professor McGonagall's voice seemed to linger in the air, for it was the only voice that had spoken out until nearly a full minute later. Blaise's eyes flickered over the trio once before settling on Harry.

Harry felt his throat close up as their eyes met and held. Why was he so nervous about this?

Of course, Blaise was his first real boyfriend and this would be his first breakup. To be honest, being with Blaise Zabini was probably his first real relationship. Cho Chang had been... Harry didn't even have a name to whatever disaster  _that_  had been because frankly it didn't even count as a fling.

And Ginny Weasley last year had only helped Harry to realize that he liked the  _male_  sex instead.

So... when it came down to it, Harry supposed that he was just nervous and a little apprehensive about how a breakup would actually be. Would he cry? Would he be angry when he found out who it was that Blaise was cheating on him with?

 _Why_  would Harry care anyway? Wasn't he  _sort of_  with Draco now?

Finally, Harry cleared his throat again, steadying his gaze with Blaise's as he repeated, "Who?"

Then with only a heartbeat of hesitation, Blaise whispered, "Neville Longbottom."

Ron looked smug as he sat back in his chair, satisfied. Hermione looked torn between horrified and grateful that Harry's problems had been solved; only this proved to have some complications in the friendship between Neville and the trio. Would it completely alienate their friend from them because of a cheating boyfriend?

"But Harry," Blaise continued, undaunted, and not once did his eyes leave Harry's. Everyone in the room tensed as if they knew that something else would be thrown in to complicate matters further. Blaise's eyes hardened as they did a thorough scrutiny over Harry's face. "What about you?"

Harry's throat suddenly went dry at his ex-boyfriend's words. If it were even possible, the awkwardness and tenseness in the room had risen, as if they were walking on eggshells around each other.

Blaise didn't wait for Harry to say anything else. He continued while Harry waited with bated breath. Blaise seemed to be stalling with his accusation, but in the end, he brought it up to one momentous point.

"You aren't faithful to me either. Draco Malfoy, ring any bells?" he spat scathingly when he finished. Harry paled and he figured that everyone in the room had their eyes on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Snape shifting rather uncomfortably and, for a single moment, remembered that he'd kissed him as well. Not that it was  _really_  serious, but he felt that perhaps even Dumbledore might have seen through them.

Thankfully, any business regarding Snape hadn't been brought up, but Harry, inspired with an idea, spoke up this time.

"I started with Draco yesterday, Blaise," Harry spoke quietly though, because he felt like this was something that was just between him and his ex. Blaise's eyes flashed as Harry resumed speaking after a short pause, "How long have you been with Neville?"

Blaise hesitated for a moment, but scowled when Snape's hand went to his pocket and retrieved a bottle of Veritaserum. Inwardly, Harry winced as memories of him and Blaise working together on improving the Veritaserum with their theories rushed back into his mind. A long, tapered finger tapped the surface of the glass phial as Blaise fixed his dark eyes on the potion.

"Remember that time you were called up to Professor McGonagall's office?" Blaise began, shifting uncomfortably as the professor in question turned her eyes on him sharply. Harry nodded slowly. It hadn't been that long ago, so Harry remembered the situation quite clearly, but still, it was a few weeks ago. Blaise licked his lips, his eyes straying away from the bottle of Veritaserum as he focused on a spot over Harry's left right shoulder. "Longbottom came to inform you, you went to her office, I turned, he walked away, and I called him back. I snogged him for a bit just to scare him. Simple."

"And...?" Hermione looked at Blaise expectantly. If the Slytherin thought he was going to get away with just that, he had another thing coming. Hermione wasn't one of the most perceptive witches for nothing. From the look of satisfaction on Dumbledore's face, Harry suspected that he was expecting more from Blaise than what he had just given.

The vial of Veritaserum in Snape's hand was slowly being unstoppered in a threatening manner. Harry had never seen Snape wanting to get the students from his own house in trouble – except, maybe, for that time that he had caught Blaise 'ravishing' him in the dungeon corridors near the Slytherin common room and had taken off fifty points.

"I honestly didn't want it to go any further than that," Blaise whispered, shamefaced, and this time, his eyes met Harry's. His stomach somersaulted when he realized that no Veritaserum would be needed to  _feel_  the sincerity in Blaise's words. "I was really ashamed of myself when I realized what I had done. But then... Longbottom wanted more. You do realize that no one has actually gone after him for a relationship before, right?"

The trio exchanged guilty glances. Aside from the disastrous partnership of Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley for the Yule Ball three years prior, there hadn't been any love interest for their shy, clumsy friend. Inwardly, Harry felt a stab of shame at the thought.

"I don't want to make it seem like I'm the bad guy here," Blaise continued, glaring at Ron when the boy snorted with derision. "But I'm telling you the truth. I kissed him just to see a reaction, but then he got really clingy. At the time, I suppose I wasn't thinking clearly. Harry was always off doing his duties and we couldn't do what other normal couples do because he was usually working."

"Don't put the blame on Harry," Ron snapped, narrowing his eyes at Blaise.

"I'm not," Blaise interrupted icily as he sneered at Ron. The expression washed away when he looked at Harry again and for a moment, the Gryffindor was reminded of the good times he had spent with Blaise despite what had happened in the end. "I really do like you, Harry. We had a great time together, but you were always doing your duties-"

"As he should! He's the Head Boy, after all," Professor McGonagall cut in with a sniff. Dumbledore raised his arm to silence everyone then gestured for Blaise to continue speaking.

"And I guess I started to feel a little neglected," Blaise finished lamely, sighing as he did so. Harry felt waves of anger ripple through his body.

"Neglected? If anyone has been neglected, it's probably Ron and Hermione. I gave up a huge amount of time just to be with you, and I can see now that I'm the one to blame for that. But there is no way that I'm going to give up my friends for a boyfriend. Mates before dates, ever heard of it?" Harry snapped angrily, feeling the usual protectiveness for his two best friends settling over him. Beside him, Ron and Hermione swelled with pride.

Blaise nodded quietly as Harry glared angrily at him. The room was no longer charged with awkwardness, but with anger and frustration. Finally, Harry spoke up.

"So while we were... separated for the week, you went to Neville, right?" he asked, watching Blaise's reaction warily. Instead of blowing up with anger or snapping back at him, Blaise merely nodded his head resignedly.

This time, Dumbledore's voice filled the silence. "I think we've come to a conclusion. I think that deducting points and a week's worth of detention should suffice. Mr. Zabini, thirty points for duelling in the corridors, as well as thirty points from Mr. Weasley. Both of you will serve your detentions, separately, with your Head of House. I do not wish to see any more fighting between the both of you and ask that if problems such as this arise in the future, that you deal with it in a mature manner."

With that, the four students were dismissed with the two professors, who were keeping an eye on them. Harry didn't know what else to feel aside from numbness.

It wasn't right to judge Blaise because Harry wasn't  _really_  in love with him. He liked Blaise, a lot, but there was a difference in how he liked Blaise and... how he liked Draco.

Shouldn't he have felt angry? But no, Harry couldn't  _feel_  anything at all. Blaise approached him as soon as they were out of Dumbledore's office. Professors Snape and McGonagall looked as if they were ready to separate the two, and Ron looked positively murderous but then Blaise held out a hand to Harry with pleading eyes.

"I don't think the two of us can pursue a relationship anymore, but..." Blaise gave him a small smile, "to be honest, I still like you and I still want to be friends. If you can forgive me, I'd like if you'd accompany me to Hogsmeade some time. As friends," he added hastily when he saw anger start to stir in Harry's eyes.

But the anger soon dissipated as Harry clutched Blaise's hand and the two shook on it. Harry felt a moment of surprise take him when Blaise pulled him forward, but soon he was in a familiar embrace and felt a soft kiss being placed against his temple.

"I'm going to miss this, Potter," he whispered, stroking his neck gently, almost longingly, before pulling away and walking off towards the dungeons. Harry's bottom lip was worried between his teeth as he watched his ex-boyfriend go, and then walked away to his own dorm without a word to either of the shocked professors or his dumbfounded friends.

* * *

By the time breakfast rolled around on Sunday morning, almost everyone knew about Harry and Blaise's breakup. Those who were too shy to ask them about it wisely kept their distance, but those who were brave (read: foolish) enough to confront either Harry or Blaise about it found themselves at wand-point.

"Now Harry," Hermione said calmly as she pulled Harry's arm down and tucked the wand into his pocket for him, "That's the sixth time I had to stop you from hexing the other students. If you do, Professor Dumbledore will think you're unfit to be Head Boy."

"What if I  _don't_  want to  _be_  Head Boy anymore, Hermione?" Harry snapped bitingly as they made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry had the dreaded feeling that even more students would try to squeeze information out of him for the rest of the week. Luckily, all they got was stares as they entered the Great Hall and sat down to eat.

Harry slowly ate his bacon with his fingers while Ron wolfed down his food. Hermione chose to eat cereal that morning as she read the Daily Prophet from Seamus. The usual bustle of breakfast time at Hogwarts filled his ears, as well as the familiar scent of the many varieties of food.

At the Head Table, Dumbledore was chatting merrily to a sour looking Snape, who sipped his black coffee without so much as sparing a glance for the Headmaster. As usual, Hermione and Ron started bickering about something – Harry tuned them out as he scanned over the Slytherin table.

Draco was there. But Crabbe and Goyle sat on either side of him, instead of Pansy and Blaise. The latter two in question were seated further down the table, talking quietly to each other.

Harry watched as Blaise shook his head and hissed something back to Pansy. She sneered at him, then stood up to walk to Draco. Harry watched the situation unfold with interest. The blond-haired boy tilted his head backwards when Pansy tapped his shoulder.

She said something to him which caused him to stand abruptly and follow her out the doors to the Great Hall. Crabbe and Goyle looked a little uncertain for a few moments before they shrugged to each other and continued to eat. Harry's eyes went back to Blaise again. He was eating rather slowly and looked rather downtrodden.

As if sensing that he was being stared at, Blaise lifted his head and their eyes met. Harry gave him a tentative smile which went by completely unnoticed by his friends at the Gryffindor table. Blaise jerked his head towards the entrance and Harry got the hint. He nodded and waited a minute after Blaise had left before following him out afterwards with the excuse that he had to get something from his rooms.

As soon as he left the Great Hall and entered the Entrance Hall, he spotted Blaise on the far side, leaning against one of the pillars. A quick glance over the room, just to check, assured Harry that they were the only ones there.

He quickly walked over to Blaise and nodded. "What do you want?" he kept his voice cordial but the fact that just two days ago, they had been kissing, made his stomach churn in weird ways.

"Just to talk to you. I miss you," he said truthfully as he made a gesture towards the massive doorway. He and Harry made their way outside and sat on the front steps in the cool environment outside. The Christmas holidays would be starting next week and already, there had been a little snowfall around Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest.

Harry smiled weakly at him as they huddled together on one side to keep warm. "You know, after breaking up with a boyfriend, I think this is probably the last thing we should be doing," Harry teased, nudging Blaise gently.

Blaise nodded with a small smile as he leaned into Harry's warmth. "True that. But I like to think that we were more than just boyfriends. We had a good friendship, didn't we?"

Harry didn't hesitate to think 'yes', but it took a little while for him to actually voice his answer. Blaise watched him inquiringly but Harry shook his head.

"Yes, we did. Sorry, I was just thinking."

"About?"

"How we came to this."

This time, an awkward silence settled over the both of them. Harry shifted uncomfortably as he felt Blaise slowly move away from him so that they were no longer pressed so tightly against each other. Their knees were still touching, however.

"It's my fault," Blaise confessed with a resigned sigh as he glared at the dark skies overhead. "I shouldn't have... with Longbottom. I shouldn't have cheated on you."

"No you shouldn't have," Harry admitted quietly as he watched the clouds in the sky start to thicken. Another awkward pause, then Harry continued, "But I'm glad you did."

"That sounds rather cruel, Harry," Blaise pointed out with a slight sniff. Harry smiled and playfully nudged him again. "Using me to get to Draco. Absolutely Slytherin."

Harry remained silent for a moment. It was kind of true, that in the end, he used the cheating Blaise as a means to get out of the relationship and into Draco's arms, but it hadn't been that initially. At the start, he was slightly confused and a little intrigued. Finally getting to have a relationship with someone who was so attractive, smart and humorous – Blaise was a bloody catch and Harry knew it. It was exciting to finally have someone who he could kiss and cuddle with, hold hands with and talk to when he got bored. It was just the general appeal of having a first boyfriend which Harry couldn't resist.

But then, at some point, he had started liking Blaise's best friend, Draco Malfoy. Harry could remember numerous times when he had felt guilty. Heck, the kisses with Snape, as much as he may or may not have enjoyed them, didn't make him feel as guilty of his actions, than the secret feelings that he started to harbour for the blond Slytherin.

There were some points during their intimate rapport where Harry wished he wasn't in a relationship with Blaise. Sometimes he'd get annoyed when the older boy wanted him to be around, especially when Harry had to do Head Boy duties, or merely when he wanted to spend some of that time with the neglected Ron and Hermione.

He didn't know, nor could he pinpoint, the exact moment when he had started to long for Draco Malfoy instead, when, in his mind, he would picture the blond kissing him, devouring him, instead of Blaise Zabini. At times, it frightened him, that he might accidentally let slip of Draco's name while he was with Blaise. Thankfully, no such thing happened, since he forced himself to keep himself in check. As a result, however, he wasn't as passionate with Blaise when they were snogging.

"I wasn't using you... like that," Harry mumbled after a moment, subconsciously scooting closer to Blaise's warm body when he felt a particularly cold blast of air draft over them. In the distance, the trees in the Forbidden Forrest began to sway with the wind. "But I guess then, you're right."

Blaise didn't say anything, opting to stay silent as Harry spilled his thoughts. "I just started liking Draco. When we slowly drifted apart, the feelings for him grew until I couldn't let them go unnoticed anymore.

I wanted to ignore them at first, but then that week came when I got angry at you," Harry didn't tell him about the incident involving his hand and Draco's beauty products. It would probably make the situation a lot worse. "Then it turns out that you were with Neville anyway."

Blaise finally reacted and he gave Harry a cool stare. "And you were with Draco," he pointed out.

"But you were with Neville," Harry argued back, frowning slightly. Blaise raised his eyes heavenwards and mouthed something that could have been 'brat' before he turned over to smile at Harry.

"It feels like we're still together and just arguing about something trivial," Blaise shot him a grin, which Harry returned. "We're still friends, right?"

Harry nodded slowly, then backed away as Blaise drew closer. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest as he remembered that Blaise casually kissed his friends, no matter who, or where, they were. He closed his eyes momentarily when a flash of bright sunlight reflected off the white, enchanted snow. Blaise's breath was hot against his cold lips before he felt the soft warmth close over him again. They kissed for a few seconds before Blaise drew back and gave Harry a grin.

Harry flushed and, inwardly, he berated himself for getting kissed, and kissing, Blaise Zabini after they were meant to have broken up. The dark-skinned Slytherin reached a hand down to hoist Harry up and they made their way back into the warm interiors of the Hogwarts castle.

What Harry failed to see as he went to meet up with Ron and Hermione, was the second flash of a camera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rice-Ball247: yeah, I don't know what I was thinking either. Sometimes I'm just like, what, really? Why did you write that?! I guess until that rewrite comes, I'll leave the original chapters up as they should have been.


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